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HISTORICAL MEMORIALS OF CANTERBURY 



Caiiterhiirv CathedraL 



HISTORICAL MEMORIALS 



CANTERBURY 



The Lauding of Augustine 

TJie Murder of Beckct Edivard the Black Prince 

Bcckefs Shrine 



ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY, D.D. 

liatf Dean of IJUrstminstcr 

FORMERLY CANON OF CANTERBURY 



SECOND AMERICAN FROM THE ELEVENTH LONDON 
EDITION 



OTitf) Ixlliistrntions 



PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE W. JACOBS c^ CO. 

103 105 South 15TU Strf.et 

L- 




^'c!;.^ 



THE JLIBRARYl 
or CONGRESS i 

WAMlNOTOKi 



45259 

Copyright 1899, by 
Geoxge W. Jacobs & Co. 

TWO COPIES RECEIVED. 







TO THE VENERABLE' 

BENJAMIN HARRISON, 

ARCHDEACON OH MAIDSTONE AND CANON Ol- LANIEKBUKV, 

IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE OF MUCH KINDNESS, 

THESE SLIGHr MEMORL^LS OF THE CITY AND CAIHEDRAI 

V'HICH HE HAS SO FAITHFULLY SERVED 

ARE INSCRIBED WITH SINCERE RESPECT 

BY THE AUIHOR. 



CONTENTS. 



L — LANDING OF AUGUSTINE AND CONVERSION OF 
ETIIELBERT. 

Tlie five lamliiigs, 21 ; Gregory the Great, 23-27; Dialogue witli tlie 
Anglo-Saxon slaves, 28, 29; Mission <>i Augustine, 30, .'51 ; Land- 
ing at Ebbe's Fleet. 32-34. 

Ethell)ert and Bertha, 34; St. Martin's Church, 35; Interview of 
Etlielbert and Augustine, 36-39 ; Arrival of Augustine at Canter- 
bury, 39, 40; Stable-gate, 41; Baptism of Etlielbert and of the 

Kentish ] ]i]e, 41, 42 ; Worshij) in the Church of St. Pancras, 43 ; 

First ciiilownient in the grant of the Cathedral of Canterbury, 45 ; 
Monastery, lil)rary, and burial ground of St. Augustine's Abbey, 
47 ; Foundation of the Sees of Rochester ami London, 49 ; Death 
of Augustine, 50; Reculver, 52 ; Death of Ethell)ert, 52. 

Effects of Augustine's mission : j'rimacy of Canterbury, 53, 54 ; Ex- 
tent of English dioceses, 55 ; Toleration of Christian diversities, 
56 ; Toleration of heathen customs, 57-59 ; Great results from 
small besrinuings, 59-G2. 



II. — MURDER OF BECKET. 

Variety of judgments on the event, f.7, 68 ; Sources of information, 
69, 70. 

Return of Becket from France: Controversy with the Archbislioj) of 
York on the rights of coronation, 71-73; l^arting with the Abbot 
of St. All)ans at Harrow, 74 ; Insidts from the Brocs of Saltwood, 
75; Scene in the cathedral oi/Christmas Day, 76, 77. 

Fury of the king, 79 ; The four kiiights, 80 ; Their arrival at Salt- 
wooil, 83; at St. Augustine's Abbey, 83; The fatal Tuesdav, 84, 
85 ; The entrance of the knights into the palace, 86. 

Appearance of Becket, 87 ; Interview with the knights, 88-94; Their 
assault on the palace, 95. 



X CONTENTS. 

Retrfiat of Beckit to tlie catlietlrul, 95 ; Miracle of the lock, 90 ; Scene 
ill tiie cathedral, 97, 98 ; Kiitranco of the kuiglits, 99 ; Tiic traiiseitt 
of "The Martyrdom," 101, 102. 

Meetiiio; of the kni-hts and the Archlii>ho]i, 10;5 ; Strngglc, 104, 105 ; 
The iiinrder, 106-109: I'lnnder of the palace, 110; liie .storm, 
1 10. 

The dead body, 111 ; The watching in the choir, 112 ; The di.-scovery 
of tlie haircloth, 112, li;5; The iiurora horeali.s, 114. 

The morning, 115; Unwrajjpiiig of the corpse and di.scovery of the 
vermin, 115, IKi; Burial in tlie crypt, 117; Desecration and re- 
cousecration of the cathedral, 1 18 ; Caiioiiization, I 19. 

Escape of the mnrderer.s, 120 ; Turning-table at South Mailing, 121 ; 
Legend of their deaths, 121-12.'i ; 'Iheir real history, 124; More- 
ville, Fitzur.se, Bret, Fitzranulph, 125,120; Tracy, 120-131; Pic- 
torial representations of the murder, i;n-1.33. 

The king's remorse, 133-1.'?5 ; Penance at Argenton, (jorliam, and 
Avraiiches, 130, 137 ; Pide fr<iiii Southampton, 139; Entrance into 
Canterbury, 140; Penance in the crypt, 140, 141 ; Absolution, 142; 
Conclusion, 144-140. 

III. — EDWAPD THE BLACK PRINCE. 

Ilistoriial lessons of Canterbury Cathedral, 150, The tombs, 151. 
Birib of the IJhii-k Prince, 152, I'Mion of hen'ditary (piafities, 1.53; 

Ivliicalioii at (Queen's College, Oxford, 153, 154; \Vy(dilTe, 155. 
Battle of Cressy, 155-159; Name of " Phick Prince," 159; Battle of 

Poitiers, lOO-lO;!. 
Visit to Canterbury, 104 . " P.lack Prince's Well "at Harblcilowii, 104 ; 

" King John's Prison," 104. 
Marriage — chantry in the cryi)t, 105 ; " Fa\\ki>' Hall," 100 ; Spanish 

campaign, 160 ; Return — sickness, 107 ; .\ ])|i(:ir;iii(i' in Parliament, 

107; T)eath-bed, 108, 109; Exorcism by ti.e IJisbop of Bangor, 

170; Death, 171. 
:\r.iiiriiiiig, 171, 172; Fiinernl, 173, 174; Tomb, 175-179; Effects of 

the Prince's life: (1) English and French wars, 181 ; (2) Chivalry 

— sack of Limoges, 182, 183 ; (3) First great English captain, and 

fir.st English gentleman, 184-180. 

AlM'KNDIX. 

1. Ordinance for tih: two Chantries ForxpEn by the Black 

Prince in the UxDEucROFr of Christ Church, Canterhury, 
187. 

2. The Wile of the P>lacic Prince, 194. 
Notes by Mr. Albert Wav. 20'i 



CONTENTS. xi 

IV. — THE SIIllINE OF BECKET. 

Comjiarative iiisigiiifR'auce of ('.anterbury Cathedral befure tlie murder 

of Becket, 220. 
Kelative position of Christ Chnreli and St. Augustine's, 221-223; 

Change effected by Archbishop Cutiibert, 224. 
Effect of the " Martyrdom," 226 ; Spread of tlio worsliip of Saint 

'rhoma,s ill Italy, France, Syria, 227 , in Scotland and England, 

228, 229; in L(»ii(loii, 2.30. 
Altar of tlie Sword's I'oint, 2.j1 ; I'lunder by Roger and Benedict, 2:V2. 
Tlie tomb in tlie crypt, 2.'J3 ; Henry II., Louis VII., liiciiard I., John, 

2.3.3, 234. 
Erection of the Shrink, 234; The fire of 1174, 2.34 : William of Sens 

ami William the Englishman, 235 ; Enlargement of the eastern 

end, 238 ; Tlie Watcliing Chamber, 238. 
The translation of tiie relics in 1220,239; Henry III., Langton, 239, 

240. 
rilgrimages, 243; A])])roacli from Sandwich, 243; Approach from 

Southampton, 244, The "Pilgrims' Koad," 244; Approach from 

London, 245 ; Chauckk's Canterbury Tales, 245-250. 
Entrance into Canterbury, 251, 252; Jubilees, 253; The inns, 255, 

The Chequers, 250 ; Tiie convents, 257. 
Entrance into the cathedral, 258. 
The nave, 259 ; The " Martyrdom," 260 ; The cryi)t, 201 ; The steps, 

263; The crown, 205; The Shuine, 205-269, The Regale of 

France, 270. 
The well and the jjilgrims' signs, 272-274 ; The dinner, 275 ; The 

town, 275: The return. 270. 
Greater pilgrims, 270 ; Edward I , 270 ; Isabella, 270 ; Joliii of France, 

277. . ' 
Reaction against jiil-rimnge, 278 ; The Lollards, 278 ; Simon of Sud- 
bury, 279 ; Erasmus and Colet, 280-283 , Scene at Harbledown, 

284^ 
Visit of Henry VIH. and Charles V.,286. 
The Reformation. 287 : Abolition of the festival, 287 ; Cranmer's 

ban(piet, 288 ; Trial of Becket, 289-292 ; Visit of Madame de Mon- 

treuil, 293; Destruction of the Shrine, 294; Proclamation, 

295. 
Conclusion, 301. 
Note A. — Extracts from the ' Polistoire " of Canterbury Catiiedral, 

305. 
Note B. — E.xtracts from tlie " Travels of the Bohemian Embassy " in 

1465, 309 



Xll 



CONTENTS. 



Note C. — Extracts from the " Peleriiio Iiiglese," .314. 
Note 1) —The " ril}j;riiiis' Koad," by Mr. Albert Way, 316. 
Note Iv — The rilgriinage of John of France, by tlie same, 3:^3. 
Note ¥. — Documents from the Treasury in Canterbury Cathedral, re- 
lating to the Shrine of Becket, witli Notes by the same, 32G. 

I. — Grants of William de Tracy and of Amicia de la More, 326. 
II. — Tlie " Corona " of Saint Thomas, 3.'il. 
III. — Miraculous cures at the Slirine of Saint Thomas, 337. 
Note (J. — The crescent in the roof of the Trinity Chapel, 34.3. 
Note H. — The jiainted \vind(nvs commemorating the miracles of 

Becket, 347. 
Note I. — Bec'ket's Shrine in painted window, Canterbury, 254. 



FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Canterbury Cathedral , . Frontispiece ^ 

The Monument of Archbishoi' Tait To face page xv •^ 

Sr. Augustine's Gateway (17 

The East Chosr W 

The Transept of i:ie Martvruom lOO^^ 

The Crypt Vll"^ 

The Lady Chapel 140'^' 

The Gateway 18()^ 

ToMK OF the Black Prince 202"^ 

The Warrior's Chapel, Tomus 219^ 

Norman Torch 258'^ 

The Baptistery 816 "^ 



ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT. 



PAGE 

Map of thk Isle of Thanet at the Timi: of the Land- 
ing OF Saint Auglstine 6i 

1'lan of the Catiieuiial at the Time of the Murder 

OF Becket .... ...... % 

The Ckvpt 141 

The Tomb of the Beack Prince 175 

Relics of Ihe nUirk Prince sn^peuikd unr the Tomb ... 178 
Ennm'llid Escntrheons on the Tomb of the /Jlaef, Prince '207-208 
Representation of the /Hack Prince, illuslratinij the Canopy orer 

the Tomb 213 

Canopy of the Black Prince's Tomb ........ 180 

Becket's Shrine 267 

Representation of Becket's Shrine in a Painted 

Window 355 



The Monument oj Archbishop Tail. 



INTRODUCTION. 



'^"pHE following pages, written in intervals of leisure 
Jl taken from subjects of greater importance, have 
nothing to recommend them, except such instruction 
as may arise from an endeavor to connect topics of 
local interest with the general course of history. It 
appeared to me, on the one hand, that some additional 
details might be contriltutcd to some of tlie most re- 
markable events in English history, by an almost ne- 
cessary familiarity with the scenes on which those 
events took place ; and, on the otlier hand, it seemed 
possible that a comparative stranger, fresh from other 
places and pursuits, might throw some new light on 
local anti(|uities, even when they have l)een as well 
cx])lored as those of Canterbury. 

To these points I have endeavored, as nearly as 
possible, to limit myself. l>arh of the four sulrjects 
which are here treated opens into much wider fields 
than can be entered upon, unless as parts of tlie 
general history of England. Each, also, if followed 
out in all its details, would reipiire a more minute 
research than T am al)le to afford. lUit in each, I 
trust, something will lie found which may not be alto- 
gether useless either to tlie antiquary or to the his- 
torian, who may wish to examine these events fully 
under their several aspects. 



xvi IXTKODUCTIOX. 

Other similar subjects, if time and opportunity niu): t^ 
be granted, may perhaps be added at some future pe- 
riod. But the four here selected are the most im- 
portant in themselves, as well as the most closely 
connected with the history of Canterbury Cathedral. 
I have accordingly placed them together, apart from 
other topics of kindred but subordinate interest. 

The first Essay is the substance of a lecture delivered 
at Canterbury in 1854, and thus partakes of a more 
popular character than so grave a subject as the con- 
version of England would naturally require. For the 
reasons above stated, I have abstained from entering 
on the more general questions which the event sug- 
gests, — the character of Gregory the Great ; the rela- 
tion of the Anglo-Saxon to the British Church; and 
the spread of Anglo-Saxon Christianity, ]\Iy purpose 
was simply to exhibit in full detail the earliest tradi- 
tions of England and Canterbury respecting tlie mis- 
sion of Augustine, and the successive steps by which 
that mission was established in Kent. And I have 
endeavored by means of these details to illustrate the 
remote position which Britain then occupied in relation 
to the rest of the civilized world, and the traces which 
■were left in the country by the Roman civilization, 
then for the first time planted among our rude Saxon 
forefathers. 

The second Essay, which originally appeared in the 
" Quarterly Review," SeiJtember, 1853, has been since 
considerably enlarged by additional information, con- 
tributed chiefly through the kindness of friends. Here, 
again, the general merits of the controversy between 
Henry II. and Becket have been avoided ; and my 
object was then simply to give the facts of its closing 
scene. For this, my residence at Canterbury provided 



INTRODUCTION. xvii 

special advantages. The narrative accordingly pur- 
poses to embrace every detail which can throw any 
light on the chief event connected with the history of 
the cathedral. In order to simplify the number of 
references, 1 have sometimes contented myself with 
giving one or two out of tlie many authorities, wlien 
these were sufficient to guarantee the facts. Of the 
substantial correctness of the whole story, the remark- 
able coincidences between the several narratives, and 
again between the narratives and the actual localities, 
appear to me decisive proofs. 

The third Essay was delivered as a lecture at Can- 
terbury, in July, 1852. Although, in point of time, 
it preceded the others, and was in part intended as 
an introduction to any future addresses or essays of 
a similar kind, I liave removed it to a later place for 
the sake of harmonizing it with the chronological order 
of the volume. The lecture stands nearly as it wap 
delivered; nor have I altered some allusions to our 
own time, which later events have rendered, strictly 
speaking, inapplicable, though perhaps, in another 
point of view, more intelligible than when first writ- 
ten. Poitiers is not less interesting when seen in the 
light of Inkermann, and the French and English wars 
receive a fresli and happy iUustration from the French 
and English alliance. There is, of course, little new 
that can be said of the Black Prince ; and my chief 
concern was with the incidents which form his con- 
nection with Canterbury. P)Ut in the case of so 
remarkable a monument as his tomb and effigy in the 
cathedral, a general sketch of the man was almost 
unavoidable. The account of his death and funeral 
has not, to my knowledge, been put tr)gether before. 
The fourth Essay is tlie substance of two lectures 



XVlll INTRODUCTION. 

delivered at Canterbury in 1855. The story of the 
Shrine of Becket was an ahiiost necessary comple- 
ment to the story of his murder ; its connection with 
Chaucer's poem gives it more than local interest ; and 
it brings the history of the cathedral down to the 
period of the Reformation. Some few particulars are 
new ; and I have endeavored to represent, in this most 
conspicuous instance, the rise, decline, and fall of a 
state of belief and practice now extinct in England, 
and only seen in modified forms on the Continent. 

In the Appendix to the last two lectures will be 
found various original documents, most of them now 
published for the first time, from the archives of the 
Chapter of Canterbury. For this labor, as well as for 
much assistance and information in other parts of the 
volume, I am indebted to the kindness of my friend 
and relative, INIr. All)ert Way. He is res})onsible only 
for his own contributions ; but without his able and 
ready co-operation I should hardly have ventured on 
a publication requiring more anti([uarian knowledge 
and research than T could l)esto\v uiion it ; and the 
valuable Notes which he has appended to supply 
this defect will, I trust, serve to perpetuate many 
pleasant recollections of his pilgrimages to Canterbury 
Cathedral. 

In publishing a new edition of these TNIemorials, with 
a few slight corrections, I cannot forbear to lament 
the loss of the two distinguished arclueologists whose 
names so often occur in these pages, — Albert Way and 
Professor Willis. 

AwjusI, 1875. 



THE LANDING OF AUGUSTINE, 



CONVERSION OF ETHELBERT. 



The authentic materials for the story of the Mission of Aiitjustiiie 
are almost eucirely comprised in the first and second books of Eede's 
'• Ecclesiastical History,' written in the beginning of the eighth cen- 
tury. A few additional touches are given by Paul the Deacon and 
John the Deacon, in their J.ives of liregory the (jreat, respectively 
at the close of tlie eiiilith and the close of the ninth century ; and in 
y'Elfric's "Homily on the Death of (.Gregory" (a. d. 990-995), trans- 
lated by Mrs. Elstoh. Some local details may be gained from " 'I'ho 
Chnmides of St. Augustine's Abbey," by Thorn, and "The Life of 
Saint Augustine," in tlie " Acta Sanctorum " of May 26, by Gocelin, — 
both monks of St. Augustine's Abbey, one in the fourteenth and the 
other in the eleventh century, — but the latter written in so rhetorical 
a strain as to be of comparatively little use except for the posthumous 
legentls. 



HISTORICAL 
MEMORIALS OF CANTERBURY 



THE LAXDING OF AUGUSTINE, AND CON- 
VERSION OF ETHELBERT. 



Lecture delivered at Canterbury, April 28, 18.34. 

THERE are five great landings in English history, 
each of vast importance, — the landing of Julius 
Cyesar, which first revealed us to the civilized world, 
and the civilized world to us ; the landing of Hengist 
and Horsa, which gave us our English forefathers and 
our English characters ; the landing of Augustine, 
which gave us our Latin Christianity ; tlie landing of 
William the Conqueror, which gave us our Norman 
aristocracy ; the landing of William III., which gave 
us our free constitution. 

Of these five landings, the three first and most im- 
portant were formerly all supposed to have taken place 
in Kent. It is true that the scene of C;esar's landing 
has been removed by the present Astronomer-Royal to 
Pevensey ; but there are still strong arguments in favor 
of Deal or Hythe. Although the historical character 
of Hengist and Horsa has been questioned, yet if they 
landed at all it must have been in Thanet. And at 



X 



22 THE FIVE LANDINGS. 

any rate, there is no doubt of the close connection of 
the landing of Saint Augustine not only with Kent, but 
with Canterbury. 

It is a great advantage to consider tlie circumstances 
of this memorable event in our local history, because 
it takes us immediately into the consideration of events 
which are far removed from us both by space and time ; 
events, too, of universal interest, which lie at the be- 
ginning of the history not only of this country, but of 
all the countries of Europe, — the invasion of the North- 
ern tribes into the Roman Empire, and their conversion 
to Christianity. 

We cannot understand who Augustine was, or why 
he came, without understanding something of the whole 
state of Europe at that time. It was, we must remem- 
ber, hardly more than a hundred years since the Eoman 
Empire had been destroyed, and every country was like 
a seething caldron, just settling itself after the invasion 
of tlie wild barbarians who had Imrst in upon the civ- 
ilized world, and trampled down the proud fabric which 
had so long sheltered the arts of peace and the security 
of law. One of these countries was our own. The 
fierce Saxon tril)es, l:)y whomsoever led, were to the 
Eomans in Britain what the Coths had been in Italy, 
what the Vandals had been in Africa, what the Franks 
had been in France ; and under them England had 
again become a savage nation, cut off from the rest of 
the world, almost as much as it had been before the 
landing of Julius C*sar. In this great convulsion it 
was natural tliat the civilization and religion of the 
old world should keep the firmest hold on the country 
and the city which had so long been its chief seat. 
That country, as we all know, was Italy, and that 
city was Rome. And it is to Rome that we must 



GREGOKY THE GREAT. 2o 

now transport ourselves, if we wisli to know how antl 
from whence it was that Augustine came, — by what 
means, under God, our fatliers received the light of 
the Gospel. 

In the general crash of all the civil institutions of 
the Empire, when the last of the CVesars had been 
put down, when the Roman armies were no longer 
able to maintain their hold on the world, it was natu- 
ral that the Christian clergy of Rome, with the Bishop 
at their head, should have been invested with a new and 
^^nusual importance. Tliey retained the only sparks of 
religious or of civilized life which the wild German 
tribes had not destroyed, and they accordingly remained 
still erect amidst the ruins of almost all besides. 

It is to one of these clergy, to one of these Bishops 
of Rome, that we have now to be introduced ; and if, 
in the story we are about to hear, it shall appear that 
we derived the greatest of all the blessings we now 
enjoy from one who tilled the otiice of Pope of Rome, 
it will not be witliDut its advantage) for two good rea- 
sons : First, because, according to the old proverb, every 
one, even the Pope, must have his due, — and it is as 
ungenerous to deny him the gratitude which he really 
deserves, as it is unwise to give him the honor to whicli 
he has no claim ; and, secondly, because it is useful to 
see how different were all the circumstances which 
formed our relations to him then and now, — how, 
although bearing the same name, yet in reality the 
position of tlie man and the office, his duties towards 
Christendom, and the duties of Christendom towards 
him, were as different from what they are now, as 
almost any two things are one from the other. 

It is, then, on Gregory the Great that we are to fix 
our attention. At the time we are first to meet him, 



24 GREGORY THE GREAT. 

he was not yet Pope. He was still a monk in the 
great monastery of St. Andrew, which he had himself 
founded, and which still exists, on the Ca;lian Mount 
at Iiome; standing conspicuous amongst the Seven 
Hills, — marked by its crown of pines, — rising imme- 
diately behind the vast walls of the Colosseum, which 
we may still see, and which Gregory must have seen 
every day that he looked from his convent windows. 

This is not the place to discuss at length the good 
and evil of his extraordinary character, or the jiosition 
which he occupied in European history, almost as tlie 
founder of Western Christendom. I will now only 
touch on those points which are necessary to make us 
understand what he did for us and our fathers. He 
was remarkable amongst his contemporaries for his 
benevolence and tenderness of heart. Many proofs 
of it are given in the stories which are told about 
him. The long marble table is .still shown at Kome 
where he used to feed twelve beggars every day. 
There is a legend that on one occasion a thirteenth 
appeared among them, an unbidden guest, — an angel, 
whom he had thus entertained unawares. Tliere is 
also a true story, which tells the same lesson, — that 
he was so much grieved on hearing of the death of a 
poor man, who in some great scarcity in IJome had 
been starved to death, that he inflicted on himself the 
severest punishment, as if lie had been responsible for 
it. He also showed his active charity in one of those 
seasons which give opportunity to all faithful pastors 
and all good men for showing what they are really 
made of, during one of the great pestilences which rav- 
aged Eome immediately before his elevation to the pon- 
tificate. All travellers who have been at Eome will 
remember the famous legend, describing how, as he 



GKIXiOin' THE GREAT. 25 

approaclied at the head of a procession, chanting the Lit- 
any, to the great niausoleuni of the Emperor Hadrian, 
he saw in a vision the Destroying Angel on the top of 
the tower sheathing his sword ; and from this vision, 
the tower, when it afterwards was turned into the 
Papal fortress, derived the name of the Castle of St. 
Angelo. Nor was his charity confined to this world. 
His heart yearned towards those old pagan heroes or 
sages who had heen gathered to their fatliers without 
liearing of tlu^ name of ( 'hrist. He could not bear to 
think, with the l)elief tliat prevailed at that time, that 
they had been consigned to destruction. One especially 
there was, of whom he was constantly reminded in 
his walks through Home, — the great Emperor Trajan, 
whose statue he always saw rising above him at the 
top of the tall column which stood in the market- 
place, called from him the Eorum of Trajan. It is 
said that he was so impressed with the thought of 
the justice and goodness of this lieatlien sovereign, tliat 
he earnestly prayed, in St. Peter's Church, that (Jod 
would even now give him grace to know the name of 
Christ and be converted. And it is believed that from 
the veneration which he entertained for Trajan's mem- 
ory, this column remained when all around it was shat- 
tered to pieces; and so it still remains, a monument 
both of the goodness of Trajan and the true Christian 
charity of Gregory. Lastly, like many, perhaps like 
most remai'kalde men, he took a deep interest in chil- 
dren. He instructed the choristers of his convent 
himself in those famous chants which bear his name. 
The book from which he taught them, the couch on 
which he reclined during the lesson, even the rod with 
which he ke])t the l)oys in order, were long preserved 
at Piome ; and in memory of this part of liis life a 



26 GREGORY THE GREAT. 

children's festival was held on his day as late as the 
seventeenth century J 

I may seem to liave detained you a long time in 
describing these general features of CJregory's charac- 
ter. But they are necessary to illustrate the well- 
known story 2 which follows, and which was preserved, 
not, as it would seem, at Eome, but amongst the grate- 
ful descendants of those who owed their conversion to 
the incident recorded. There was one evil of the time, 
from which we are now ha})pily free, which especially 
touched his generous heart, — the vast slave-trade which 
then went on through all parts of Europe. It was not 
only, as it once was in the British Empire, from the 
remote wilds of Africa that children were carried off 
and sold as slaves, but from every country in Europe. 
The wicked traffic was chiefly carried on by Jews and 
Samaritans;*'^ and it afterwards was one especial object 
of Gregory's legislation to check so vast an evil. He 
was, in fact, to that age what A\'ilberforce and Clark- 

1 Lappeiiberg's History of Eiiglaiul (Eng. tr.), i. 130. 

■^ 'JMie story is told in Beile, ii. 1, § 89, and from liim isoopieil, with 
very slight variations, by all other ancient mediaeval writers. It has 
been told by most modern historians, but in no instance that I have 
seen, with perfect accuracy, or witli tiie full force of all the expre.ssious 
employed. As Bede speaks of knowing it by tradition (" traditione 
majorum"), he may, as a Northumbrian, have beard it from the families 
of tiie Northumbrian slaves. But mo^st probably it was preserved 
in St. Augustine's monastery at Canterbury, and communicated to 
Rede, with other traditions of the Kentisli Cliurch, by All)inus, Alibot 
of St. Augustine's (Rede, Pref. p. 2). As the earliest of " Canterbury 
Tales," it seemed worthy of being here repeated with all the illustra- 
tions it could receive. There is nothing in the story intrinsically im- 
probable ; and although Gregory may have been actuated by many 
motives of a more general character, such as are ably imagined by Mr. 
Kemble, in the interesting cbiiiitcr on this subject in his "Saxons in 
England," yet perhajis \\c learn as much by con.sidering in detail what 
in England at least was bdicviMl to be tlie origin of the mission. 

3 See Milman's History of the Jews, iii. 208. 



.187.] (iUEtlORV THE GREAT. ^ 27 

Sou, by their noble Cbristian zeal, have been to ours. 
Aud it may be mentioned, as a })roof both of his en- 
lightened goodness, aud of his interest in this particu- 
lar cause, that he even allowed and urged the sale of 
sacred vessels, and of the property of the Church, for 
the purpose of redeeming captives. With this feeling 
in his mind he one day went with the usual crowd that 
thronged to the market-place at Eome when they heard, 
as they did on this occasion, that new cargoes of mer- 
chandise had been imported from foreign parts. It w\as 
possibly in that very market-place of which 1 have 
before spoken, where the statue of his favorite Trajan 
was looking down upon him from the summit of his 
lofty pillar. To aud fro, before him, amongst the bales 
of merchandise, passed the gangs of slaves, torn from 
their several homes to be sold amongst the great fami- 
lies of the nobles and gentry of Italy, — a sight such 
as may still be seen (happily nowhere else) in the re- 
mote East, or in the Southern States of North America. 
These gangs were doubtless from various parts: there 
were the swarthy hues of Africa; there were the dark- 
haired and dark-eyed inhabitants of Greece and Sicily; 
there were the tawny natives of Syria and Egypt. But 
amongst these, one group arrested the attention of (rreg- 
ory beyond all others. It was a group of three ^ boys, 
distinguished from the "rest by their fair complexion 
and white flesh, the beautiful expression of their coun- 
tenances, and their light flaxen hair, which, by tlie side 
of the dark captives of the South, seemed to him al- 
most of dazzling brightness,^ and which, by its long 
curls, showed that they were of noble origin. 

1 Thorn, IT."??. " Tros pueros." lie alone gives the number. 
- " Candidi corporis," Hkdi: ; " liutei cori^oris," Paul the Dea- 
con, c. 17 ; "veuusti viiltus, capilluruni iiitore," John the Deacon: 



28 DIALOGUE WITH ANGLO-SAXON SLAVES. [587. 

Nothing gives us a stronger notion of the total se})- 
aration of the northern and southern races of Europe 
at that time than the emotion which these peculiarities, 
to us so familiar, excited. Gregory stood and looiscd at 
them ; his fondness for children of itself would have 
led him to pity them; tliat they sliould he sold for 
slaves struck (as we have seen) on another tender chord 
in his heart ; and he asked from what part of the world 
they had been brought. The slave merchant, probably 
a Jew, answ^ered, " 1^'rom Britain ; and there all the in- 
habitants have this bright complexion." ^ 

It would almost seem as if this was the first time 
that Gregory had ever heard of Britain. It was indeed 
to Rome nearly what New Zealand is now to England ; 
and one can imagine that fifty years ago, even here, there 
may have been many, even of the educated classes, who 
had a very dim conception of where New Zealand was, 
or what were its inhabitants. The first question which 
he asked about this strange country was what we might 
have expected. The same deep feeling of compassion 
that he had already shown for tlie fate of the good 
Trajan, now made him anxious to know whether these 
beautiful children — so innocent, so interesting — were 
pagans or Christians. " They are pagans," was the 
reply. The good Gregory heaved a deep sigh - from the 
bottom of his heart, and broke out into a, loud lauien- 
tation expressed with a mixture of ])layfulness, which 

" criiie rutilix," Goikmn ; " capillos privuipiii cunduris," Paui.US Diat. ; 
"capilluin rdniiA egregia," Bede ; "noble [(etiielici'] heads of hair," 
vElfhk'. It is from tliese last expressions that it may be inferred that 
the hair was unshorn, and therefore indicated that the children were 
of noble birth. See Palgrave's History of the Anglo-Saxons, p. 58 ; 
Lappen berg's History of England, i. 136. 

1 " De Britannije insula, cujns iiicolarum omnis facies simili cau- 
dore fulgescit." — Acta Sanctonnn. \t 141 ; .Tohn the Deacon, i. 21. 
> ^ " Intlnio ex corde louga tralieus suspiria." — Bede. 



587] DIALOGUE WITH ANGLO-SAXON SLAVES. 29 

partly ^vas in accordance with the custom of the tiiiie,i 
partly perhaps was suggested by the thought that it 
was children of whom he was speaking. "Alas! more 
is the pity, that faces so full of light and brightness 
should be in the liauds of the Prince of Darkness, that 
such grace of outward appearance should accompany 
minds without the grace of God within!"- He w^ent 
on U) ask what was the name of their nation, and was 
told tliat they were called " Angles " or " English." It 
is not without a thrill of interest that we hear the 
proud name which now is heard with respect and awe 
from tlie rising to the setting sun, thus uttered for the 
first time in the metropolis of the world, — thus awak- 
ing for the first time a response in a Christian heart. 
" Well said," replied Gregory, still following out his 
play on the words ; " riglitly are they called Angles, for 
they have the face of angels, ami they ought to be fel- 
low-heirs of angels in hea\en." Once more he asked, 
"What is the name of the province from which they 
were brought?" He was told that they were "Deirans," 
that is to say, that they were from Deira ^ (the land of 
" wild beasts," or " wild deer"), the name then given to 
the tract of country between the Tyne and the Humber, 
including Durham and Yorkshire. "Well said, again," 
answered Gregory, with a play on the word that can 
only be seen in Latin; " rightly are they called Deirans, 
plucked as they are from (iod"s ire [dc ird Dei], i\\\d 
called to the mercy of Clirist." Once again he asked, 
"And who is the king of that province ? " " Ella," was 

1 The anonymous biographer of Gregory, in tlie " Acta Sanctorum," 
March 12, p. 130, rejoices in tlie Pope's own name of good omen, — 
" Gregorius," quasi " \'igilautlus." 

2 " Tani lucidi vultus . . . auctor tenelu-arum . . . gratia fronti.; 
. . . gratia Dei," Bkde ; " Black Devil," ^lfric. 

3 "Dcore; Thier; deer." See Suames' Anglo-Saxon Church, p. 31. 



30 MISSION OF AUGUSTINE. [587. 

the rejily. Every one who has ever heard of Gregory 
has heard of his Gregorian chants, and of his interest 
in sacred music; the name of Ella reminded him of 
the Hebrew words of praise which he had introduced 
into the Eoman service,^ and he answered, " Allelujah ! 
the praise of God their Creator shall be sung in those 
parts." 

So ended this dialogue, — doubly hiteresting because 
its very strangeness shows us the character of the man 
and the character of his age. This mixture of the play- 
ful and the serious — this curious distortion of words 
from their original meaning ^ — was to him and his 
times the natural mode of expressing their own feelings 
and of instructing others. But it was no passing emo- 
tion which the sight of the three Yorkshire boys had 
awakened in the mind of Gregory. He went from the 
market-place to the Pope, and obtained from him at 
once permission to go and fulfil the design of his heart, 
and convert the English nation to the Christian faith. 

He was so much beloved in Uome, that great opposi- 
tion it was felt would be made to his going ; and 
therefore he started from his convent with a small band 
of his companions in the strictest secrecy. But it was 
one of the many cases that we see in human life, where 
even the best men are prevented from accomplisiiing 
the objects they have most at heart. He had advanced 
three days along the great northern road, which leads 
through the Flaminian gate from IJome to the Alps. 
When 3 they halted as usual to rest at noon, they 
were lying down in a meadow, and Gregory was read- 

1 See Fleury, Ilistoire Eeclc'siasti(|ue, book xxxvi. 18. 
'- See the account of GreironV own Commentary on Job, as shortly 
given in Milman's History of Latin Christianity, i. 43.5. 
^ " Vit. S. Greg." — Paul the Deacon. 



587.1 MISSION OF AUGUSTINE. 31 

ing; suddenly a locust leaped upon his book, and sat 
motionless on the page. In the same spirit that had 
dictated his playful speeches to the three children, he 
begiui to draw morals from the name and act of the 
locu.-t. " nightly is it called Locusta," he said, " be- 
cause it seems to say to us ' Loco sta,' that is, ' Stay 
ill your place.' I see that we shall not be able to finish 
our journey. But rise, load the mules, and let us get 
on as far as we can." It was whilst they were in the 
act of discussing this incident that there galloped to 
the spot messengers, on jaded horses, bathed in sweat, 
who had ridden after him at full s})eed from the Pope, 
to command his instant return. A furious mob had at- 
tacked the Pope ill St. Peter's Church, and demanded 
the instant recall of Gregory. To Ptome he returned ; 
and it is this interruption, humanly speaking, which 
prevented us from having (hvgory the Great for the first 
Archbishop of Canterbury and founder of the English 
Church. 

Years rolled away ^ from the time of the conversation 
in the market-place before Gregory could do anytliing 
for the fulfilment of his wishes. But he never forgot 
it; and when he was at last elected Pope he employed 
an agent in France to buy English Christian youtlis of 
.seventeen or eighteen years of age, sold as slaves, to be 
brought up in monasteries. P.ut before this plan had 
led to any result, he reciuved intelligence which deter- 
mined him to adopt a more direct course. What this 
intelligence was we shall see as we proceed. [5'J7.] 
Whatever it might be, he turned t)nce more to his old 
convent on the Cielian Hill, and from its walls sent 
forth the Prior, Augustine, with forty monks as niis- 

' Tlie luiMitidii (if " Klhi " in the dialug-uc fixes the date to be befure 
A n. 588. Auiiustiue was seut a. u. 5'J7. 



32 LANDING AT EBBE'S FLEET. |597. 

sionaries to England. In one of the cliapels of that 
convent there is still a picture of their departure. 

1 will not detain you with his journey through 
France ; it is chiefly curious as showing how very re- 
mote England seemed to be.^ He and his companions 
were so terrified hy the rumors they heard, that they 
sent him hack to Home to beg that they might be ex- 
cused, (irregory would hear of no retreat from dangers 
wdiich he had himself been juvpared to face. At last 
they came on, and landed at Ebbe's Fleet,^ in the Isle 
of Thanet. 

Let us look for a moment on the scene of this im- 
portant event, as it now is and as it was then. You 
all remember the high ground where the white chalk 
cliffs of Ramsgate suddenly end in Pegwell Ray. Look 
from that high ground over the level'tlat which lies be- 
tween these cliffs and the point where they begin again 
in St. jMargai-et's cliffs beyond Walraer. Even as it is, 
you see why it must always have invited a landing 
from the continent of Europe. The wide opening be- 
tween the two steep cliffs must always have afforded 
the easiest approach to any invaders or any settlers. 
But it was still more so at the time of which we are 
now speaking. The level ground which stretches be- 
tween the two cliffs was then in great part covered with 
water; the sea spread much farther inland from Peg- 
well Bay, and the Stour, or Wensomc'' (as that part 

1 Greg. Epp., v. 10. 

'-2 It is called VMri-.iisly II m, „;„<•. Ki.iri,w, Ili,,f,l, Ilqw, KppffI, 
Wipped Fleet; ;ui(l llif niniio has Ih-ch \ aiinii.sly derived fniiii 
Whipped (a Sax.in cliicf, killed in the first l.attle of Heiii^ist), Hope 
(a haven), JW/f-/ (from its beino- aflerwurds the port of the alihey of 
St. Augustine). Fleet is " I'ort." 

3 The " Boarded Groin " wiiieh Lewis (Lslc of Thanet, p. 8.T) fixes 
as the spot, still remains, a little beyond the coast-guard station, at 
the point marked in the Ordnance Survey as the landing place of the 



597] LANDING AT EBBE'S FLEET. 33 

was then called), instead of being a scanty stream that 
hardly makes any division between the meadows on 
one side and the other, was then a broad river, making 
the Isle of Thanet really an island, nearly as much as 
the Isle of Slieppey is now, and stretching at its mouth 
into a wide estuary, which formed the port of liich- 
borough. ^Moreover, at that remote age, Sandwich ha- 
ven was not yet choked up ; so that all the ships which 
came from France and Germany, on their way to Lon- 
don, sailed up into this large port, and through the 
riv^er, out at the other side by lleculver, or, if they 
were going to land in Kent, at Eichborough on the 
mainland, or at Ebbe's Fleet in the Isle of Thanet. 

Ebbe's Fleet is still the name of a farm-house on a 
strip of high ground rising out of Minster marsh, 
which can be distinguished from a distance by its line 
of trees ; and on a near approach you see at a glance 
that it must once have been a headland or promontory 
running out into the sea between the two inlets of the 
estuary of the .Stour on one side, and I'egwell Bay on 
the other. What are now the broad green fields were 
then the waters of the sea. The tradition that " some 
landing" took place there, is still preserved at the 
farm, and the field of clover which rises immediately 
on its north side is shown as the spot. 

Here it was that, according to the story preserved in 
the .Saxon Chronicle, Hengist and Horsa had sailed in 
with their three ships and the band of warriors who 
conquered Vortigern. And here now Augustine came 
with his monks, his choristers, and the interpreters 

Saxons. " Cotinansfiekl " .seems to ])e the liigh ground runiiinf]; at tlie 
back of level ; the only vestige of the name now preserved is " Cottinp:- 
ton." But no tradition marks the spot, and it must then have been 
covered by the sea. 



34 etiii:lbi:kt and ueutiia. [597. 

they had brought with them from Franco. The Saxon 
conquerors, hke Augustine, are deserihed as having 
landed, not at liichborough, but at Ebbe's Fleet, be- 
cause they were to have the Isle of Tlianet, for their 
fii\st possession, apart from the mainland ; and Au- 
gustine landed thei'e tliat he might remain safe on that 
side the broad river till he knew the mind of the king. ■ 
The rock was long preserved on which he set foot, and 
which, according to a superstition found in almost 
every country, was supposed to have received the im- 
pression of his footmark. In later times it became an 
object of pilgrimage, and a little chapel was built over 
it; though it was afterwards called the footmark of 
Saint Mildred, and the rock, even till the beginning of 
the last century, was called " Saint Mildred's rock," ^ 
from tlie later saint of that name, whose fame in the 
Isle of Tlianet then ecli})sed that of Augustine him- 
self. There they landed "in the ends," "in the corner 
of the world," ^ as it was then thought, and waited 
secure in their island retreat till they heard how the an- 
nouncement of their arrival was received by Ethelbert, 
King of Kent. 

To Ethelbert we must now turn.-'^ He w^as, it was 
believed, great grandson of Eric, son of Hengist, sur- 

1 "Not many years ai^o," says Ilasteil (iv. 32.5), writincj in 1799. 
" A few years apo," .says Lewis (Isle of Tlianet, ]). 58), writing in 1 72."}. 
Compare, for a similar transference of names in more sacred localities, 
the footmark of Mahomet in the Mosque of Omar, called during the 
Crusades the footmark of Clirist ; and the footmark of Mahomet's 
mule on Sinai, now called the footmark of the dromedary of Moses. 
The stone was thought to he gifted with the power of flying hack to 
its original place if ever removed. (T-ambard's Kent, p. 104.) 

'■2 "Fines mnn<li — gens Aii'/lonim in niundi anr/ulo posita." — (^ric^J- 
Epp., V. 1.58, 159. Ohserve tlio ]ilay nn tlie word, as in page 29. 

'^ Ethelbert is the same n;uiic ns Adalbert .'uid Albert /as Adalfuns 
= AIfons, Uodelrich = Ulrich), meaning '• Nui>le-briglit." 



597.] ST. MARTIN'S CIIUUCII. o5 

named " tliu Ash," ^ and father of the dynasty of tho 
"Ashings,"' or "sons of the Ash-tree," the name by 
which the kings of Kent were known. He had, be- 
sides, acquired a kind of imperial authority over the 
other Saxon kings as far as the Hundjer. To con- \ 
solidate his power, lie had married I>ertha, a Trench 
princess, daughter of the King of Paris. It was on 
this marriage that all tlie subsequent fate of England 
turned. Kthelbert was, like all the Saxons, a heathen ; 
but Bertha, like all the rest of the French royal family 
from Clovis downwards, was a Christian. She had her 
Christian chaplain with her, Luidhard, a French bishop; 
and a little cha})el ^ outside the town, which had once 
been used as a place of British Christian worship, was 
given up to her use. Tliat little chapel, " on the east 
of the city," as Bede tells us, stood on the gentle slope 
now occupied by the veneralde Church of St. Martin. Y 
The i)resent church, old as it is, is of far later date ; 
but it un(|uestional)ly votains in its walls some of the 
lloman bricks and lloman cement of liertha's chapel; 
and its name may ])erhajis have been derived from 
Bertha's use.'^ Of all the great Christian saints of 

1 "Asliing" (Bcdc, ii. .'), § H)l) was ])r(il):ilily a poncral name for 
hero, in allusion to tlie jn-inieval man of 'J'eutonic !nytliol()f;y, wlio was 
believed to have sprung from the sacred Ash-tree Ycjdrasil. (Grinim's 
Deutsche Myth., i. .324, .'')31, 617.) Compare the venerable Ash wliich 
gives its name to the village of Donau-Eschingen, " the Ashes of tiie 
Danube," l)y tlie source of that river. 

^ The postern-gate of the Precincts opposite St. Augustine's gate- 
way is on the site Qiim<'nrjntr, a name derived — hut l)y a very doubtful 
etymology — from the tradition that through it Bertha passed from 
Ethelbert's palace to St. Martin's. (Battely s Canterbury, p. 16.) 

3 It is, however, possible that the name of Saint Martin may have 
been given to the church of the British Christians before. Bede's 
expression rather leans to the earlier origin of the name: " Erat . . . 
ecclesiain honorem Sancti Martini nntiqnitus facta dum adhuc Romani 
Britanniam iucolei"cut." Saint >yiuian, who labored amongst the South 



o6 INTEIIVILW Or KTllin.BEri T AND AU(;UST1NE. [r.OT. 

whom she had lieard in France before she canie to 
Enghmd, the most famous was Saint ^hirtin of Tours ; 
and tlius the name which is now so familiar to us that 
we hardly think of asking ^vhy the church is so called, 
may possibly be a memorial of the rec(jllections which 
the French princess still cherished of her own native 
country in a land of strangers. 

To her it would be no new thouglit that possibly she 
might be the means of converting her husl)and. Her 
own great ancestor, CTovis, had l)ec()me a Christian 
through the inlhience of his wife Clotilda, and many 
other instances had occurred in like manner elsewhere. 
It is no new story ; it is the same that has often l)een 
enacted in humljler spheres, — of a careless or unbeliev- 
ing husliand converted l)y a believing wife. ]>ut it is 
a striking sight to sec })lanted in the very beginning of 
our history, with the most important consequences to 
the whole world, the same fact which every one must 
have especially witnessed in the domestic history of 
families, high and low, throughout the land. 

It is probable that Ethelbert had heard enough from 
Bertha to dispose him favorably towards the new re- 
ligion ; and Gregory's letters show that it was the 
tidings of this predisposition which had induced him 
to send Augustine. But Ethelbert's conduct on hear- 
ing that the strangers were actually arrived was still 
hesitating. He would not suffer them to come to Can- 
terbury ; they were to remain in the Isle of Thanet 

ern Picts, a.d. 412-432, dedicated his clinrcli at Whitehaven to Saint 
Martin. Hasted (History of Kent, iv. 49G) states (hnt without giving: any 
autliority), that it was originally dedicated to the Virgin, and was dedi- 
cated to Saint Martin by Luidiiard. Tlie legendary origin of tlie church, 
as of that in the Castle of Dover, of St. I'eter's (Cornhill), of West- 
minster Abbey, and of Winchester Cathedral, is traced to King Lucius. 
(Ussher, Britanuicaruni Ecclesiarum Autiquitatcs, pp. 129, 130.) 



5<J7.] INTERVIEW OF ETIIELBERT AND AUGUSTINE. 37 

with the Stour liuwing between himself aiul them ; and 
he also stipulated that on no account should they hold 
their first interview under a roof, — it must be in tlie 
upen air, fur fear of the charms and spells which he 
feared they might exercise over him. It was exactly 
the savage's notion of religion, that it exercises infiu- 
ence, not by moral and s[)iritual, but by magical means. 
This was the first fecHng ; this it was that caused the 
meeting to be held not at Canterbury, but in the Isle 
of Thanet, in the wide open space, — possibly at Ebbe's 
Fleet, — possibly, according to another account, under 
an ancient oak on the high n])land ground in the centre 
of the island,' then dotted with wuuds which have long- 
since vanished.- 

The meeting must have been remarkable. Tlie Sax- 
on king, " the Son of the Ash-tree," with his wild sol- 
diers round, seated on tlie bare ground on one side — 
on the other side, with a huge silver cross borne before 
him (crucifixes were not yet introduced), and beside it 
a large picture of Christ painted and gilded'^ after the 
fashion of tliose times, on an uiiright board, came uj> 
from tlie shore Augustine and his companions, clianting, 
as they advanced, a solemn Litany for themselves and 



1 See Lewis, Isle of Thniiet, p. 83 : " Under an oak that cjrew in 
tiie niirldle of tlie island, whidi all the Cieniian pa_i!;ans had in the 
Iiighest veneration." He ijjivos no autiiority. The oak was held 
sacred liy I he Germans as well as hy the Bi-itons. Prol)al)ly the recol 
lection of this meetinir determined the forms of that which Aniynstine 
afterwards hohl with tlie P.riti^h Christians on tlie contiiies of Wales. 
Then, as now, it wa'^ in the open air, under an oak; then, as now, 
A n;;n.stine was seated. (Bede, ii 2, § 9.) In the same chapel of St. 
(iregory's convent at Rome, whicdi contains the jiictiire of the depart- 
ure of Antrnstine, is one — it need hardly he said, with no attempt at 
historical accuracy— of his reception liy Ethelhert. 

2 As indicated hy the names of places. (Hasted, iv. 292.) 

3 " Formose atcjue aurate." — Ada Sanctonim, p. ;{2G. 



38 INTERVIEW ()F ETIIELBERT AN]) AUGUSTINE. [59/ 

for those to whom they came. He, as we are told, was 
a man of almost gigantic stature/ head and shoulders 
taller than any one else ; with him were Lawrence, 
who afterwards succeeded him as Archbishop of Can- 
terbury, and Peter, who became first Abbot of St. 
Augustine's. They and their companions, amounting 
altogether to forty, sat down at the king's command, 
and the interview began. 

Neither, we must remember, could understand the 
other's language. Augustine could not understand a 
word of Anglo-Saxon ; and Ethelbert, we may be tol- 
erably sure, could not speak a word of Latin. But 
the priests whom Augustine had brought from France, 
as knowing both German and Latin, now stepped for- 
ward as interpreters ; and thus the dialogue which 
followed was carried on, much as all communications 
are carried on in the East, — Augustine first delivering 
his message, which the dragoman, as they would say 
in the East, explained to the king.^ 

The king heard it all attentively, and then gave this 
most characteristic answer, bearing upon it a stamp of 
truth which it is impossible to doubt: "Your words 
are fair, and your promises ; but because they are 
new and doubtful, I cannot give my assent to them, 
and leave the customs which I have so long observed, 
with the whole Anglo-Saxon race. But because you 
have come hither as strangers from a long distance, and 
as I seem to myself to have seen clearly that what you 
yourselves believed to be true and good, you wish to 
impart to us, we do not wish to molest you ; nay, rather 

1 Acta Sanctorum, p. .199. 

2 Exclianc;e English travellers for Roman missionaries, Arab slieiklis 
for Saxon chiefs, and tlie well-known interviews on the way to Petra 
give us some notion of this celebrated dialogue. 



51)7 I INTERVIEW OF ETIIELBERT AND AUGUSTINE. 39 

we are anxious to receive you hospitably, and to give 
you all that is needed for your support, nor do we hin- 
der you from joining all whom you can to the faith of 
your religion." 

Such an answer, simple as it was, really seems to 
contain the seeds of"\iIl that is excellent in the Eng- 
lish character, — exactly what a king should have said 
on such an occasion, — exactly what, under the intiu- 
ence of Christianity, has grown up into all our best 
institutions. There is the natural dislike to change, 
which Englishmen still retain ; there is the willingness 
at the same time to listen favorably to anything whicli 
comes recommended by tlie energy and self-devotion 
of those who urge it; there is, lastly, the spirit of 
moderation and toleration, and the desire to see fair 
play, which is one of our best gifts, and which I hope 
we shall never lose. We may, indeed, well be thankful, 
not only that we had an Augustine to convert us, but 
that we had an Ethelbert for our king, 

Erom the Isle of Thanet, the missionaries crossed 
the broad ferry to liichborough, — the " Burgh," or castle, 
of " Eete," or " Eetep," as it was then called, from the 
old Eoman fortress of RutupiiP, of which the vast ruins 
still remain. Underneath the ovcrlianging cliff of the 
castle, so the tradition ran, the king received the mis- 
sionaries.^ They tlien advanced to Canterbury by the 
Eoman road over St. j\Iartin's Hill. The first object 

1 Saiulwirli MS. in Boys' Samlwicli, p. 838. An old lierniit lived 
amongst tlie ruins in tlie time of Henry VIII., and jiointed out to Le- 
land what seems to liave been a memorial of this in a chapel of St. 
Augustine, of wlut-h some slight remains are still to he traced in the 
northern hank of the fortress. There was also a head or bust, said to 
be (jf Queen Bertha, embedded in the walls, — remaining till the time 
of Elizabeth. The curious crossing in the centre was tlieii called by 
the common people, " St. Augustine's Cross." (Camden, j). ^42 ) Vor 
tliis (piestion see the Note at the end of this Lecture. 



40 AKKIVAL OF AUGUSTINE AT CANTERBURY. [507 

that would catch then- view would be the little Dritisli 
chapel of St. Martin, — a welcome sight, as showing 
that the Christian faith was not wholly strange t(j this 
new land. And then, in the valley below, on the banks 
of the river, appeared the city, — the rud5 wooden city 
as it then was, — embosomed in thickets. As soon as 
they saw it, they formed themselves into a long proces- 
sion ; they lifted up again the tall silver cross and the 
rude painted board ; there were with them the choris- 
ters, whom Augustine liad lironght from Gregory's 
scliool on the C;elian Hill, trained in the chants which 
W(^re called after his name ; and they sang one of 
tliose Litanies^ whicli (iregory had introduced for 
the plague at Eomo. "We l)eseech thee, O Lord, in 
all tliy mercy, that thy wratli and tliine anger may 
be removed from this city and from thy holy house. 
Allelujah." ^ Doubtless, as tliey uttered that last word, 
they must have remembered tlint they were thus ful- 
filling to the letter the very wisli that Cregory had 
expressed when he first saw the Saxon children in 
the inarket-place at llome. And thus they came 
down St. Martin's Hill, and entered Canterbury. 

' Fleiirv, Ilistoire Ecck'.siasti(iuo, Ijook xxxv. 1. 

2 Bede (ii. 1, § 87) supposes tliat it \va.s to tliis that Gregory nlliules 
in his Commentary on Job, wlicn he says, " Lo, tlie language of Britain, 
wliich once only knew a harltarous jargon, now has heguu in divine 
praises to sound Allelujah." It is oI)jectcd to this tliat tiie Cnininen- 
tary on Job was written during Gregory's mission to Constantinople, 
some years before tliis event, and that tlicrefore tlie passage must 
relate to tlie victory gnined by Germanus in tlie Welsh mountains l)y 
the .shout of " Ilallelujali." But the ("uninientary w.as only bcunn at 
Constantinojile. Considering'- tlic dunlit wliether Gregory could have 
heard of the ]iroceedings of (iernianus, it may well be a (piestion 
wlietlier tlie allusion in tlie Commentary on Job w.as not added after 
he had heard of this fulfilment of his wislies. At .any r.ato, it illus- 
trates the hold whicli the word " IIal](dujali " had on liis mind in con 
nectiou with the conversion of Britain. 



hi'7.| BAPTISM OF ETHELBERT. 41 

Every one of the events which follow is connected 
with some well-known locality. The place that Ethel- 
bert gave them first was " Stable-gate," by an old 
heathen temple, where his servants worshipped, near 
tlie present Church of Pt. Alfege, as a " resting-place," 
where they "stabled" till he had made up his mind; 
and by their good and holy lives it is said, as well as 
l)y the miracles they were supposed to work, he was at 
last decided to encourage them more openly, and allow 
them to worship with the queen at St. Martin's.^ 

In St. Martin's they worshipped ; and no doubt the 
mere splendor and strangeness of the Eoman ritual 
])rodue('d an instant effect on the rude liarbarian mind. 
And now came the turning-point of their whole mis- 
sion, the baptism of Ethelbert. It was, unless we ex- 
cept tlie conversion of Clovis, the most important 
baptism that tlie world had seen since that of Con- 
stantino. We know the day, — it was the Feast of 
Whit-Sunday, — on the 2d of June, in the year of our 
Lord 597. I'nfortunately we do not with certainty 
know the place. The only authorities of that early 
age tell us merely that he was baptized, without 
specifying any particular spot. Still, as St. Martin's 
Church is described as the scene of Augustine's min- 
istrations, and, amongst other points, of his adminis- 
tration of baptism, it is in the highest degree probable 
that the local tradition is correct. And although the 
venerable font, which is there shown as tliat in which 
he was baptized, is pr()^•ed Ity its appearance to be, at 
least in its upper part, of a later date, yet it is so like 
that which appears in tlie representation of the event 
in the seal of St. Augustine's Abbey, and is in itself 
so remarkable, that we may perhaps fairly regard it 
1 Thoru, 1758. 



42 CHURCH OF ST. PANCRAS. [597 

as a monument of the event, — in the same manner 
as the large porphyry basin in the Lateran Church 
at Rome commemorates the baptism of Constantine, 
though still less corresponding to the reality of that 
event than the stone font of St. Martin's to the place 
of the immersion of Ethelbert.^ 

The conversion of a king was then of more im- 
portance than it has ever been before or since. The 
baptism of any one of these barbarian chiefs almost in- 
evitably involved the baptism of the whole tribe, and 
therefore we are not to be surprised at finding that 
when this step was once achieved, all else was easy. 
Accordingly, by the end of that year, Gregory wrote to 
his brother patriarch of the distant Church of Alex- 
andria (so much interest did the event excite to the re- 
motest end of Christendom), that ten thousand Saxons 
liad been baptized on Christmas Day,^ — baptized, as 
we learn from another source, in the broad waters of 

, the Swale,''' at the moutli of the ]\Iedvvay. 

^ The next stage of the mission carries us to another 
'"" spot. Midway between St. ]\Iartin's and the town was 
another ancient building, — also, it would appear, al- 
though this is less positively stated, once a British 
church, but now used by T^thclbert as a temple in which 

• Neitlier Bede fg 79) nor Tliorn (1759) says a word of the scene of 
tlic l)a])tism. RntGocelin (Acta Sanctorum, p. 38.1) s])eaks distinctly of a 
" hajjtistcry " or "urn " as used. Tlie first luentiDu <>f tlie fniit at St 
Martin's tliat I find is in Stukcly, p. 117 (in the seventeenth century). 

2 Greg. Epp., vii. 30. 

3 See Fuller's Church History, ii. §§ 7, 9, wliere he ju.stly argues, 
after his quaint fashion, that the Swale mentioned hy Gocelin (Acta 
Sanctorum, p. 390), Gcrvase (Acta Pont., p. 1551 ), and Camden (p. 130). 
cannot he tliat of Yorkshire. Indeed, Gregory's letter is decisive. The 
legend represents the crowd as miraculously delivered from drowning, 
and the haptism as performed hy two and two u])on each otiier at the 
command, though not hy tlie act, of Augustine. 



5'J7.] CIIUKCII OF ST. PANCRAS. 43 

to worship the gods of Saxon paganism. Like all the 
Saxon temples, we must imagine it embosomed in a 
thick grove of oak or ash. This temple, according to 
a principle which, as we shall afterwards find, was laid 
down by Gregory himself, Ethelbert did not destroy, 
but made over to Augustine for a regular place of Chris- 
tian worship. Augustine dedicated the place to Saint 
Pancras, and it became the Church of St. Pancras, of 
which the spot is still indicated by a ruined arch of 
ancient brick, and by the fragment of a wall, still show- 
ing the mark ^ where, according to the legend, the old 
demon who, according to the belief at that time, had 
hitherto reigned supreme in the heathen temple, laid 
his claws to shake down the building in which he first 
heard the celebration of Christian services, and felt that 
his rule was over. But there is a more authentic and 
instructive interest attaching to that ancient ruin, if 
you ask why it was that it received from Augustine the 
name of St. Pancras ? Two reasons are given : First, 
Saint Pancras, or Pancrasius, was a Eoman boy of noljle 
family, who was martyred ^ under Diocletian at tlie age 
of fourteen, and, being thus regarded as the patron 
saint of children, would naturally be chosen as the 
patron saint of the first-fruits of the nation which was 
converted out of regard to the three English children in 
the market-place ; and, secondly, the Monastery of St. 



' The ])lacc now pointed out e.in lianlly he the snme as tliat imli- 
cated hy Thorn (17G0) as " the sontli wall of the chureli." I-nt every 
.student of local tradition knows Imw easily they are trans]i]anteil to 
suit the convenience of their ]ier]ietnati(in. 'I'he present niai'k is ;i])- 
parently that nientiuncd iiy Stukely (j). 117), who gives a view of the 
church as then standini;-. 

'^ The Roman Church of St. Pancrazio, hehind the Vatican (so fa- 
mous in the siege of Rome hy the French in 1849), is on the .scene of 
Paucrasius's martvrdom. 



44 FIRST CATHEDRAL OF CANTERBURY. [597. 

Andrew on the Cielian Hill, which Clregory liad founded, 
and from which Augustine came, was built on the very 
property which had belonged to the family of Samt 
Pancras, and therefore the name of Saint Pancras was 
often in Gregory's mouth (one of his sermons was 
preached on Saint Pancras's day), and would thus nat- 
urally occur to Augustine also. That rising ground 
on which the Chapel of St. Pancras stands, with St. 
Martin's Hill behind, was to him a Ciclian ]\Iount in 
England ; and this, of itself, would suggest to him the 
wish, as we shall presently see, to found his hrst 
monastery as nearly as possible with the same asso- 
ciations as that which he had left behind. 

But P]thelbert was not satisfied with establishing 
those places of worship outside the city. Augustine 
was now formally consecrated as the first Archbishop 
of Canterbury, and Ethell)ert determined to give him a 
dwelling-place and a house of prayer within the city 
also. lUiildings of this kind were rare in Canterbury, 
and so the king retired to Ptcculver, — built there a 
new palace out of the ruins of the old Roman fortress, 
and gave up his own palace and an old British or 
Roman church in its neighborhood, to be the seat of 
the new archbishop and the foundation of the new 
cathedral. If the baptism of Ethelbert may in some 
measure be compared to the baptism of Constantine, so 
this may be compared to that hardly less celebrated act 
of the same emperor (made up of some truth and more 
fable), — his donation of the " States of the Church," 
or at least of the Lateran Palace, to Pope Sylvester ; 
his own retirement to Constantinople in consequence 
of this resignation. It is possible that Ethelbert may 
have been in some measure influenced in his step by 
what he may have heard of this story. His wooden 



y?7.\ FIKST CATIIEDKAL OF CANTERBURY. 45 

palace was to liiiii what tlic Lateran was to Constantiiie ; 
Augustine was his Sylvester ; lieculver was his Byzan- 
tium. At any rate, this grant of house and land to 
Augustine was a step of immense importance not only 
in English but European history, because it was the 
first instance in England, or in any of the countries oc- 
cupied by the barbarian tribes, of an endowment by the 
State. As St. Martin's and St. Pancras's witnessed the 
first beginning of English Christianity, so Canterbury 
Catliedral is tlie earliest monument of an English Church 
Kstal)lislniient; — of the English constitution of the 
union of Ciiurch and State.^ Of the actual building of 
this first cathedral, nothing now remains ; yet there is 
much, even now, to remind us of it. Eirst, there is the 
venerable chair, in which, for so many generations, the 
primates of England have l)cen enthroned, and whicii, 
though probably of a later date, may yet rightly be 
called " Saint Augustine's Chair; "- for, though not the 
very one in which lie sat, it no doubt represents the 
ancient episcopal throne, in which, after the fashion of 
the bishops of that time, he sat behind the altar (for 
that was its proper place, and there, as is well known, 
it once stood), with all his clergy round him, as may 
still be seen in several ancient churches abroad.X Next, 
there is the name of the cathedral. It was then, as it 
is still, properly calh-d " Christ Churcli," or the " Church 
of our Saviour." We can hardly doubt that this is a 



1 That the jiarallcl of Cciistantiiie was ])re.><eiit to the iiiiiuLs of those 
concerned is evident, not merely from tlie express comparison hy Go- 
celiii (Acta Sanctorum, p. 38.3), of Ethelbert to Constantine, and Au- 
gustine to Sylvester, but from the appellation of " Hellena" given by 
Gregory to Bertha, or (as he calls her) Edilhurga. (Epp., ix. 60.) 

- The arguments against the niiti()nity of the chair are, (I) Tiiat it 
is of Purheck marble; (2) 'I'li.a the old throue was of one i)iece of 
"tone, the present is of three. 



46 MONASTERY AND LIBRARY OF ST. AUGUSTINE. [.^5/ 

direct memorial of the first landing of Augustine, when 
he first announced to the pagan Saxons the faith and 
name of Christ, and spread out before their eyes, on the 
shore of Ebbe's Fleet, the rude painting on the large 
board, which, we are emphatically told, represented to 
them " Christ our Saviour." And, thirdly, there is the 
curious fact, tliat the old church, whether as found, or 
as restored by Augustine, was in many of its features 
an exact likeness of the old St. Peter's at Rome, — 
doubtless from his recollection of that ancient ediiice in 
what may be called his own cathedral city in Italy. 
In it, as in St. I'eter s,' the altar was originally at the 
west end. Like St. Peter's it contained a crypt made 
in imitation of the ancient catacombs, in which tlie 
bones of the apostles were originally found ; and this 
was the first beginning of the crypt which still exists, 
and which is so remarkable a part of the present cathe- 
dral. Lastly, then, as now, the chief entrance into the 
cathedral was through the soutli door,^ wliich is a prac; 
tice derived, not from the Eomaii, Imt from the British 
times, and therefore from the ruined Pritish church 
which Augustine first received from Ethelbert. It is 
so still in the remains of the old British churches which 
are preserved in Cornwall and Scotland ; and I mention 
it here because it is perhaps tlie only point in the whole 
cathedral which reminds us of that earlier British Chris- 
tianity, which had almost died away before Augustine 
came. 

Finally, in tlie neighborhood of the Churcli of St. 
Pancras, where he had first begun to perform Christian 
service, Ethelbert granted to Augustine the ground on 
which was to be built the monastery tliat afterwards 

1 Willis's rantPiburv Cathedral, pp 20-32. 
■■^ Ibid., p. LI. 



597.] MONASTERY AKI) LIBKAUY OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 47 

grew up into the great abbey called by his name. It 
was, in the tirst instance, called the Abbey of .St. Teter 
and St. Paul, after the two apostles of the city of Home, 
from which Augustine and his companions had come ; 
and though in after times it was chiefly known by the 
name of its founder Augustine, yet its earlier appella- 
tion was evidently intended to carry back the thouglits 
of those who first .settled within its walls far over the 
sea, to the great churches which stood by the banks 
of the Tiber, over the graves of the two apostles. This 
monastery was designed chiefly for two purposes. One 
object was, that the new clergy of the Christian mission 
might be devoted to study and learning. And it may 
be interesting to remember here, that of this original 
intention of the monastery, two relics possibly exist, 
although not at Canterbury.' In the library of Corjdis 
Christi College at Cambridge, and in the Bodleian Li- 
brary at Oxford, two ancient manuscript Gospels still ex- 
ist, which have at least a fair claim to be considered the 
very books which Gregory sent to Augustine as marks 
of his good wishes to the rising monastery, when 
llawrence and Peter returned from Britain to Rome, to 
tell him the success of their mission, and from liim 
brought back these presents. They are, if so, the most 
ancient books that ever were read in England ; as the 
Church of St. ]\Iartin is the mother-church, and the 
Cathedral of Canterbury the mother-cathedral of Eng- 
land, so these books are, if I may so call them, the 
mother-books of England, — the first beginning of Eng- 
lish literature, of English learning, of English education. 
And St. Augustine's Abbey was thus the mother-school, 
the mother-university, of England, the seat of letters 
and study at a time when Cambridge was a desolate 
fen, and Oxford a tangled forest in a wide waste of 



4S BUKIAL-GKOUNI) OK ST. AUGUSTINE'S AHBEl. [.v.;7 

waters.^ 'Jli^'y remind us tliat English power and Eng- 
lish religion have, as from the very first, so ever since, 
gone along with knowleilge, with learning, and especially 
with that knowledge and that learning which those two 
old manuscripts give — the knowledge and learning of 
the Gospel. 

This was one mtention of St. Augustine's IMonastery. 
The other is remarkable, as explaining the situation of 
the Abbey. It might be asked why so important an 
edifice, constructed for study and security, should have 
been built outside the city walls? One reason, as I 
have said, may have been to fix it as near as possible to 
the old Church of St. Pancras. But there was another 
and more instructive cause : Augustine desired to have 
in this land of strangers a spot of consecrated ground 
where his bones should repose after death. But in the 
same way as the Abbey Church of Glastonbury in like 
manner almost adjoins to the Chapel of St. Joseph of 
Arimathea, such a place, according to the usages which 
he brought with him from liome, he could not have 
within the walls of Canterbury. In all ancient coun- 
tries the great cemeteries were always outside the town, 
along the sides of the great highways by which it was 
approached. In Jewish as well as in IJoman history, 
only persons of the very highest importance were al- 
lowed what we now call intra-mural interment. So it 
was here. Augustine the Boman fixed his burial-place 

1 A manuscript history of the fouiuhitioii of St. Augustine's Abbey 
(in the lil)rary of Trinity Hall, Camhridpe, to which it was given by 
one into whose hands it fell at the time of the Dissolution) contains an 
account of eight manuscripts, said to be those sent over by Gregory. 
Of these all have long since disappeared, with three exceptions, — a 
Bible which, however, has never been heard of since 1G04, and the two 
manuscript Gospels still shown at Corpus, Cambridge, and in the 
Bodleian at ()xf(M-d. The arguments for their genuineness are stated, 
by Waulev, in Uickes's Thesaurus (ii. 172, 173). 



597] FOUNDATION OF THE SEE OF PvOCHESTER. 49 

by the side of the ^Tcat Eoman road which then ran 
from Eichboroiigh to Canterbury over St. Martin's Hill, 
and entering the town by the gateway which still 
marks the course of the old road.^ The cemetery of St. 
Augustine was an English Appian Way, as the Church 
of St. Pancras was an English Cielian Hill ; and this is 
the reason why St. Augustine's Abbey, instead of the 
Cathedral, has enjoyed the honor of burying the last 
remains of the first primate of the English Church and 
of the first king of Christian England. 

For now we have arrived at the end of their career. 
Nothing of importance is known of Augustine in con- 
nection with Canterbury, beyond what has been said 
above. AVe know that he penetrated as far west as the 
banks of the Severn, on his important mission to the 
Welsh Christians, and it would also seem that he nuist^ 
have gone into Dorsetshire ; but these would lead us 
into regions and topics remote from our present subject. 

His last act at Canterbury, of which we can speak 
with certainty, was his consecration of two monks who 
had been sent out after him by Gregory to two new 
sees, — two new steps farther into the country, still 
under the shelter of Ethelbert. Justus became Bishop 
of Rochester, and Mellitus Bishop of London. And 
still the same association of names which we have seen 
at Canterbury was continued. The memory of " St. 
Andrew's Convent " on the Ctelian Hill was perpetuated 

1 Bede, i. 33, § 79 ; Gostling's Walk, p. 44. " A common footway 
lay through it, even till memory." 

2 See the account of his conference with the Welsh, in Bede ; the 
stories of his adventures in Dorsetshire, in the " 7\cta Sanctorum." 
p. 391. The story of his journey into Yorksliire has j)robahly arisen, 
from the mistake, before noticed, respecting tlie Swale. The whole 
question of his miracles, and of the legendary portions of his life, is too 
long to be discussed in this place. 

4 



50 DEATH OF AUGUSTINE. [605. 

in the Cathedral Church of St. Andrew on the oanks of 
the Medway, The names of Samt Peter and Saint Paul, 
which had been combined in the abbey at Canterbury, 
were preserved apart in St. Peter's at Westminster and 
St. Paul's in London, which thus represent the great 
Roman Basilicas, on the banks of the Thames. How 
like the instinct with which the colonists of the New 
World reproduced the nomenclature of Christian and 
civilized Europe, was this practice of recalling in re- 
mote and barbarous Britain the familiar scenes of Chris- 
tian and civilized Italy ! 

It was believed tliat Augustine expired on the 26th 
of May, G()5,^ his patron and benefactor, Gregory tlie 
Great, having died on the 12th of Marcli of the previous 
year, and he was interred,- according to the custom of 
which I have spoken, by the roadside in the ground now 
occupied by the Kent and Canterbury Hospital. The 
abbey which he had founded was not yet finished, but 
he had just lived to see its foundation.^ Ethelbert came 
from Reculver to Canterbury, a few months before Au- 
gustine's death, to witness the ceremony ; and the monks 
were settled there under I*eter, tlie first companion of 
Augustine, as their head. Peter did not long survive 
his master. He was lost, it is said, in a storm off the 
coast of France, two years afterwards, and his remains 
were interred in the Church of St. Mary at Boulogne."* 
Bertha and her chaplain also died about the same time, 
and were buried beside Augustine. There now remained 
of those who had first met in the Isle of Thanet ten 
years before, only Ethelbert himself, and Lawrence, who 

1 Thorn (ITCr,) cives the year ; Bede (ii. 3, § 96), tlie day. 

2 Thurii, 1767. 

'* Thorn, 1761. Cliristmas, a. n. 605, was, accoi'diiig to our reckon- 
injj;. on Cliristmas, 604. 
* 'Ihoru, 1766. 



613.] BURIAL-PLACE OF AUUU.STINE. 51 

had beeii '^onseciated Archbishop by Aiigustme himself 
before his death, an unusual and almost unprecedented 
step,^ but one which it was thought the unsettled state 
of the newly converted country demanded. Once more 
Ethelbert and Lawrence met, in the year 613, eight 
years after Augustine's death, for the consecration of 
the Abbey Church, on the site of which there rose in 
after times the noble structure whose ruins still remain, 
preserving in the fragments of its luige western tower, 
even to our own time, the name of Ethelbert. Then the 
bones ^ of Augustine were removed from tlieir resting- 
place by the Eoman road, to be deposited in the north 
transept of the church, where they remained till in the 
twelfth century they were moved again, and placed 
under the high altar at the east end. Then also the 
remains of Bertlia and of Luidhard were brought within 
the same church, and laid in the transept or apse dedi- 
cated to Saint Martin ; ^ thus still keeping up the rec- 
ollection of their original connection with the old 
French saint, and the little chapel where they had 
so often worshipped on the hill above, — Luidhard * 

1 Thorn, 1765; Bede, ii. 4, § 97. 

2 Thorn, 1767. The statement in Butler's " Lives of tlie Saints" 
(May 26) is a series of mistakes. 

3 The mention of this apse, or " porticus," of Saint ]\Lartin has led 
to tlie mistake which from Fuller's tiine (ii. 7, § 3'2) has fixed the 
grave of Bertha in the (Miurch of St. Martin's on the hill. But the 
elegant Latin inscription which the excellent rector of St. Martin's 
has caused to be placed over tlie rude stone tomb which popularly 
bears her name in his beautiful church, is so cautiously worded tliat 
even if she were buried much farther off than she is, the claim wliicli 
is there set up would hardly be contradicted. 

■4 Luidhard is so mere a shadow, that it is hardly worth wliile col- 
lecting wh;it is known or said of him. His name is variously spelled 
Lethard, Ledvard, and Luidhard. His French bishopric is variously 
represented to be Sois.sons or Senlis. His tomb iu the abljcy \v;is Imi.^' 
known, and liis relics were i-arried round ranterbnry in a ^oM chest 
on the Rogation Days. (Acta Sanctorum, Feb. 24, jip. 468, 47u ) 



52 DKATII OF ETllELBKKT. [Git.. 

on the north, and IJertha on the south side of the 
altar. 

Three years longer Ethelbert reigned. He lived, as 
has been already said, no longer at Canterbury, but in 
the new palace which he had built for himself within 
the strong Konian fortress of Eeculver, at the north- 
western end of the estuary of the Isle of Thanet, though 
in a different manner. The whole aspect of the place 
is even more altered than that of its corresponding 
fortress of Eichborough, at the other extremity. The 
sea, which was then a mile or more from Eeculver, has 
now advanced up to the very edge of the cliff on which 
it stands, and swept the northern wall of the massive 
fortress into the waves ; but the three other sides, over- 
grown with ivy and elder bushes, still remain, with the 
strong masonry which Ethelbert must have seen and 
handled ; and within the enclosure stand the venerable 
ruins of the church, with its two towers, which after- 
warils rose on the site of Ethelbert's palace. 

This wild spot is the scene which most closely con- 
nects itself with the remembrance of that good Saxon 
king, and it long disputed with St. Augustine's Abbey 
the honor of his burial-place. Even down to the time 
of King James I., a monument was to be seen in the 
south transept of the church of Eeculver, professing to 
cover his remains ; ^ and down to our own time, I am 
told, a board was affixed to the wall with the inscription 
" Here lies Ethelbert, Kentish king whilom." This, how- 
ever, may have been Ethelbert II. ; and all authority leans 
to the story that, after a long reign of forty -eight years 
(dying on the 24th of February, 616), he was laid side 
by side with his first wife Bertha, ^ on the south side of 

1 Weever, Funeral Moniimonts, p. 260. 

2 That lie had a secoud wife appears from the allusiou to her in 



G16.1 PRIMACY OF CANTERBURY. 53 

St. Martin's altar in the Clmrch of St. Augustine,^ and 
there, somewhere in the field around the ruins of the 
abbey, his bones, with those of Bertha and Augustine,'-^ 
probably still repose and may possibly be discovered. 

These are all the direct traces which Augustine and 
Ethelbert have left amongst us. Viewed in this light 
they will become so many finger-posts, pointing your 
thoughts along various roads, to times and countries 
far away, — always useful and pleasant in this busy 
world in wdiich we live. But in that busy world itself 
they have left traces also, which we shall do well 
briefly to consider before we bid farewell to that ancient 
Eoman prelate and that ancient Saxon chief. I do not 
now speak of the one great change of our conversion to 
Christianity, which is too extensive and too serious a 

the .story of liis .sou Eadbald (Bede, ii. § 10-2), but lier uame is never 
nieutioued. 

1 Thorn, 1767 ; Beds, ii. §§ 100, 101. 

- In the " Acta Sauctoruni " for Feb. 24 (p. 478), a strange ghost- 
story is told of Ethelbert's tomb, not without interest from its connec- 
tion with the previous history. The priest who had the charge of tlie 
tomb liad neglected it. One night, as he was in tlie cliapel, there suddenly 
i.ssucd from the tomb, in a blaze of liglit which filled the wjiole apse, 
the figure of a boy, with a torch in his iiand : long golden hair flowed 
round his shoulders; his face was as white as snow; his eyes slione 
like stars. He rebuked the priest and retired into his tomb. Is it 
possible that the story of this apparition was connected with the tradi- 
tional description of the three children at Rome ? 

There was a statue of Ethelbert in the south chapel or apse of S't. 
Pancras (Thorn, 1677), long since destroyed. But in the screen of 
the cathedral choir, of the fifteentli century, he may still be seen as the 
founder of the catheiiral, with tlie model of the church in his hand. Ho 
was canonized ; but probably as a saint he was less popularly known 
than Saint Etiielberf of Hereford, with wliom he is sometimes confused. 

His epitaph was a curious instance of rhyming Latinity : — 
" Rex Ethclbertus liic clauditur in polyandro, 
Fana pians, Christo meat absque meandro." 

Speed, 215. 



54 PRIMACY OF CANTERBURY. IG16 

subject to be treated of on tbe present occasion. But 
the particular manner in which Christianity was thus 
planted is in so many ways best understood by going 
back to that time, that I shall not scruple to call your 
attention to it. 

First, the arrival of Augustine explains to us at once 
why the primate of this great Church, the first subject 
of this great empire, should be Archbishop not of 
London, but of Canterbury. It had been Gregory's 
intention to fix the primacy in London and York 
alternately; but the local feelings which grew ont of 
Augustine's landing in Kent were too strong for him, 
and they have prevailed to this day.^ Humble as Can- 
terbury may now be, — " Kent itself but a corner of 
England, and Canterbury seated in a corner of tliat 
corner," ^ — yet so long as an Archbishop of Canterbury 
exists, so long as the Church of England exists, Can- 
terbury can never forget that it had the glory of beiug 
the cradle of English Christianity. And that glory it 
bad in consequence of a few simple causes, far back 
in the mist of ages, — the shore between the cliffs 
of Itamsgate and of the South Foreland, wliicli made 
the shores of Kent the most convenient landing-place 
for the Italian missionaries ; the marriage of the wild 
Saxon king of Kent with a Christian princess ; and 
the good English connnon sense of Ethelbert when 
the happy occasion arrived. 

1 Greg. Epp.,xii. 15. Gervase (Acta Pont, pp. 11.31, ll.']2), thinking 
that by this letter the Pope established three primacies, — one at Lon- 
don, one at Canterbury, and one at York, — needles.sly perplexes him- 
self to reconcile such a distribution with the geography of Britain, 
and arrives at the conclusion that the Po])e " licet Sancti Spiritns sa- 
crarium esset," yet had fallen into the error of supjjosing each of the 
cities to be equidistant from the other. 

2 Fuller, Church History, book ii. § viii. 4, in speaking of the tem 
porary transference of the primacy to Lichfield. 



616.] EXTENT OF ENGLISH DIOCESES. 55 

Secondly, we may see, in the present constitution of 
Church and State in England, what are far more truly 
the footmarks of Gregory and Augustine than that 
fictitious footmark which he was said to have left at 
Ebbe's Fleet. 

There are letters from Gregory to Augustine, which 
give him excellent advice for his missionary course, — 
advice which all missionaries would do well to con- 
sider, and of which the effects are to tliis day visible 
amongst us. Let me mention two or three of these 
points. The first, perhaps, is more curious than gen- 
erally interesting. Any of you who have ever read 
or seen the state of foreign churches and countries 
may have been struck by one great difference, which I 
believe distinguishes England from all other churches 
in the world ; and that is, the great size of its dioceses. 
In foreign countries you will generally find a bishop's 
see in every large town; so that he is, in fact, more 
like a clergyman of a large parish than what we call 
the bishop of a diocese. It is a very important char- 
acteristic of the English Church that the opposite 
should be the case with us. In some respects it has 
been a great disadvantage ; in other respects, I believe, 
a great advantage. The formation of the English sees 
was very gradual, and the completion of the number of 
twenty-four did not take place till the reign of Henry 
VITI. I)Ut it is curious that this should have been 
precisely the same number fixed in Gregory's instruc- 
tions to Augustine ; and, at any rate, the great size of 
the dioceses was in conformity with his suggestions. 
Britain, as I have said several times, was to him 
almost an unknown island. Probably he thought 
it might be aljout the size of Sicily or Sardinia, the 
only large islands he liad ever seen, and that twenty- 



56 TOLERATION OF CHRISTIAN DIVERSITIES. [GIG. 

four bishoprics would be sufficient. At any rate, so 
he divided, and so, with the variation of giving only 
four, instead of twelve, to the province of York, it was, 
consciously or unconsciously, followed out in after 
times. The kings of the various kingdoms seem to 
have encouraged the practice, each making the bish- 
opric co-extensive with his kingdom ; ^ so that the 
bishop of the diocese was also chief pastor of the tribe, 
succeeding in all probability to the post which the 
chaplain or high-priest of the king had held in the days 
of paganism. And it may be remarked that, whether 
from an imitation of England or from a similarity of 
circumstances, the sees of Germany'-^ (in this respect 
an exception to the usual practice of continental Eu- 
rope) and of Scotland arc of great extent. 

But, further, Gregory gave directions as to the two 
points which probably most perplex missionaries, and 
which at once beset Augustine. The first concerned 
his dealings with other Christian communities. Au- 
gustine had passed through Erance, and saw there 
customs very different from what he had seen in Eome ; 
and he was now come to Britain, where there were 
still remnants of the old ]>ritisli churches, with cu.s- 
toms very different from wliat he had seen either in 
Erance or Konie. What was he to do ? The answer 
of Gregory was, that whatever custom he found really 
good and pleasing to God, whether in the Church of 
Italy or of Erance, or any other, he was to adopt it, 
and use it in his new Church of England. " Things," 
he says, " are not to be loved for the sake of places, but 
places for the sake of things." ^ 

1 See Kemble's Saxons, book ii. chap. viii. 

2 Germany was, it should be remembered, converted by Englishmen 

3 Bede, i. 27, § 60. • 



(-.16.1 TOLEKATION OF HEATHEN CUSTOMS. 57 

It was indeed a truly wise and liberal maxim, — one 
which would have healed many feuds, one which per- 
haps Augustine himself might liave followed more than 
he did. It would be too much to say tliat the eflect 
of this advice has reached to our own time; but it 
often happens that the first turn given to the spirit 
of an institution lasts long after its first founder has 
passed away, and in channels quite different from those 
which he contemplated ; and when we think what the 
Church of England is now, I confess there is a satis- 
faction in thinking that at least in this respect it has 
in some measure fulfilled the wishes of Gregory the 
Great. There is no church in the world which has 
combined such opposite and various advantages from 
other churches more exclusive than itself, — none in 
which various characters and customs from the oppo- 
site parts of the Christian world could have been able 
to find such shelter and refuge. 

Another point was how to deal with the pagan cus- 
toms and ceremonies which' already existed in the 
Anglo-Saxon kingdom. Were they to be entirely de- 
stroyed, or were they to be tolerated so far as was not 
absolutely incompatible with the Christian religion ? 
And here again Gregory gave to Augustine the advice 
wliich, certainly as far as we could judge. Saint I'aul 
would have given, and which in spirit at least is an 
example always. " He liad thought much on tlie sub- 
ject," he says, and he came to the conclusion that hea- 
then temples were not to be destroyed, but turned 
whenever possible into Christian churches ; ^ ihat the 

1 To Ethelbert lie hatl expressed himself, apparently in an earlier 
letter, more strongly against the temples. ( Bede, i. .32, § 7G.) " Was 
it settled policy," asks Dean Milman, " or mature reflection, which led 
tlie Pope to devolve the more odious duty of tlie totnl al)olitioii of idola- 
try on tlic teni])oral power, the liarliarian kiijy ; while it permitted tlie 



58 TOLERATION < tF HEATHEN CUSTOMS. [016 

droves of oxen wliich used to be killed in sacrifice 
were still to be killed for feasts for the poor; and that 
the huts which they used to make of boughs of trees 
round the temples were still to be used for amuse- 
ments on Christian festivals. And he gives as the 
reason for this, that " for hard and rough minds it is 
impossible to cut away abruptly all their old customs, 
because he who wishes to reach the highest place must 
ascend by steps and not by jumps." ^ 

How this was followed out in England, is evident. 
In Canterbury we have already seen how the old hea- 
then temple of Ethelbert was turned into the Church 
of St. Pancras. In the same manner the sites granted 
by Ethelbert for St. Paul's in London, and St. Peter's 
in Westminster, were both originally places of heathen 
worship. This appropriation of heathen buildings is 
the more remarkable, inasmuch as it had hitherto been 
very unusual in Western Christendom. In Egypt, in- 
deed, the temples were usually converted into Christian 
churches, and the intermixture of Coptic saints with 
Egyptian gods is one of the strangest sights that the 
traveller sees in the monuments of that strange land. 
In Greece, also, the Parthenon and the temple of The- 
seus are well-known instances. But in Rome it was 
very rare. The Pantheon, now dedicated to All Saints, 
is almost the only example ; and this dedication itself 
took place four years after Gregory's death, and prob- 
ably in consequence of his known views. The frag- 
ment of the Church of St. Pancras — the nucleus, as 
we have seen, of St. Augustine's Abbey — thus be- 

mikler or more winning- conr.<P to the elergy, the protection of the hal- 
lowed places and images of the Jieatlien from insult liy consecrating 
them to holier uses ? " — Ilistorij of Lai in C'/nisliaiillij, ii. 59. 
1 Bede, i. 30, § 74. 



cli;.| (iUKAT ]{KSUI/rS FIIOM SMALL BKGIXNINGS. 51) 

comos a witness to an important jirinciple ; and the 
le^uend of the Devil's claw reads us the true lesson, 
that the evil spirit can be cast out of institutions 
without destroying them. Gregory's advice is, indeed, 
but the counterpart of John Wesley's celebrated say- 
ing about church music, that " it was a great pity the 
Devil should have all the best tunes to himself; ' and 
the principle which it involved, coming from one in 
his commanding position, probably struck root far 
and wide, not only in England, but throughout West- 
ern Christendom. One familiar instance is to be found 
in the toleration of the heathen names of the days of 
the weeks. Every one of these is called, as we all 
know, after the name of some Saxon god or goddess, 
whom Ethelbert worshipped in the days of his pagan- 
ism. Through all the changes of Saxon and Norman, 
Roman Catholic and Protestant, these names have 
survived, but, most striking of all, through the great 
change from heathenism to Christianity.^ They have 
survived, and rightly, because there is no harm in their 
intention ; and if there is no harm, it is a clear gain to 
keep up old names and customs, when their evil inten- 
tion is passed away. They, like the ruin of St. Pancras, 
are standing witnesses of Gregory's wisdom and mod- 
eration, — standing examples to us that Christianity 
does not require us to trample on the customs even 
of a heathen world, if we can divest them of their 
mischief. 

Lastly, the mission of Augustine is one of the most 
striking instances in all hist<jry of the vast results 
which may flow from a very small beginning, — of the 

1 Soe a full and most interesting discussion of the whole subject of 
tlie licathen names of the week days, iu Grimm's Deutsche Mytlwlogie, 
i. 111-128. 



GO GREAT llESULTS FROM SMALL EEGLXNINGS. [G16. 

immense effects produced by a single thouoht in the 
heart of a single man, carried out consistently, delib- 
erately, and fearlessly. Nothing in itself could seem 
more trivial than the meeting of Gregory with the 
three Yorkshire slaves in the market-place at lionie; 
yet this roused a feeling in his mind which he never 
lost; and through all the obstacles which were thrown 
first in his own way, and then in the way of Augus- 
tine, his highest desire concerning it was more than 
realized. And this was even the more remarkable 
when we remember who and whatj,us instruments 
were. You may have observed that] I have said little 
of Augustine himself, and that for two reasons: first, 
because so little is known of him ; secondly, because 
I must confess that what little is told of him leaves 
an unfavorable impression behind. We cannot doubt 
that he was an active, self-denying man, — his coming 
here through so many dangers of sea and land proves 
it^ — and it would be ungrateful and ungenerous not to 
acknowledge how much we owe to him. But still al- 
most every personal trait which is recgrded of him 
shows us that he was not a man of any great elevation 
of character, — that he was often thinking of himself, 
or of his order, when we should have wished him to be 
thinking of the great cause he had in hand. We see 
this in his drawing back from his journey in France ; 
we see it in the additional power which he claimed 
from Gregory over his own companions ; we see it in 
the warnings sent to him by Gregory, that he was not 
to be puffed up by the wonders he had wrought in 
Britain ; we see it in the haughty severity with wliich 
he treated the remnant of British Christians in Wales, 
not rising when they approached, and uttering tliat 
malediction against them wliich sanctioned, if it did 



610] (;KEAT KESULTy FKOM SMALL BEGINNINGS. 61 

nut instigate, their massacre by the Saxons ; we see it 
in the legends which grew up after his death, telling 
us how, because the people of Stroud insulted him by 
fastening a fish-tail to his back,i he cursed them, and 
brought down on the whole population the curse of 
being born with tails. 

I mention all this, not to disparage our great bene- 
factor and first archbishop, but partly because we 
ought to have our eyes open to the truth even about 
our best friends, partly to show what I have said be- 
fore, from what small beginnings and through what 
weak instruments Gregory accomplished his mighty 
work. It would have been a mighty work, even if it 
had been no more than (Iregory aiul Augustine them- 
selves imagined. They thought, no doubt, of the 
Anglo-Saxon conversion, as we might think of the 
conversion of barbarous tribes in India or Africa, — ■ 
numerous and powerful themselves, but with no great 
future results. How far beyond their widest vision 
that conversion has reached, may best be seen at 
Canterbury. 

Let any one sit on the hill of tlie little Church of St. 
IMartin, and look on the view which is there spread be- 
fore his eyes. Immediately below are the towers of 
the great Abbey of St. Augustine, where Christian 
learning and civilization first struck root in the Anglo- 
Saxon race;^ and within which now, after a lapse of 

1 Gocelin notices the offence, without expre.isly stating the punish- 
ment (c. 41), and yjlaces it in Dorsetshire. The story is s;:;iven in 
Harris's Kent, p. 30.3; in Fuller's Church History, ii. 7, § 22 ; and in 
Ray's Proverbs (p. 2.33), who mentions it especially as a Kentish 
story, and as one that was very generally believed in his time on tlie 
Continent. There is a long and amusing discussion on the subject in 
Lambard's Kent, p. 400. 

- I have forborne to dwell on any traces of Augustine's mission lie- 
sides those which wei-e left at the time. Otherwise the list would be 



62 GREAT RESULTS FROM SMALL BEGINNINGS. [616. 

many centuries, a new institution has arisen, intended 
to carry far and wide to countries of which Gregory 
and Augustine never heard, the blessings which they 
gave to us. Carry your view on, — and there rises 
high above all the magnificent pile of our cathedral, 
equal in splendor and state to any, the noblest tem})le 
or church that Augustine could have seen in ancient 
Home, rising on the very ground which derives its con- 
secration from him. And still more than the grandeur 
of the outward buildings that rose from the little 
church of Augustine and the little palace of Ethelbert, 
have been the institutions of all kinds, of which these 
were the earliest cradle. ^ From Canterbury, the first 
English Christian city ; from Kent, the first English 
Christian kingdom, — has, by degrees, arisen tlie whole 
constitution of Church and State in England which 
now binds together the whole British Empire. And 
from the Christianity here established in England has 
flowed by direct consequence, first, the Christianity 
of Germany ; then, after a long interval, of North 
America;';/ and lastly, we may trust in time, of all India 
and all Australasia. The view from St. Martin's 
Church is indeed one of the most inspiriting that can 
be found in the wcndd ; there is none to wliich T would 
more willingly take any one who doulit'-d wlicthcr a 
small beginning could lead to a great and lasting good, 
— none which carries us more vividly back into the 
past or more hopefully forward to the future. 

much enlarged by the revival of the ancient associations, visible in 
St. Augustine's College, in St. Gregory's Church and burial-ground, 
and in the restored Church of St. Martin ; where the windows, although 
of modern date, are interesting memorials of the past, — especially 
tliat wliich represents the well-known scene of Saint Martin dividing 
tlie cloak. 



NOTE. 



N O T PI 

Tin-; 8t:itonients rospertiuj:; the spot of Aajrustine's landino; 
are so various that it may be worth while to jijive briefly the 
different claimants, in order to simplify the statement in pages 
3-2-39. 

1. Ebbe's Fleet. For this the main reasons are : (1) The fact 
that it was the usual landinji-plaee in ancient Thanet, as is shown 
by the tradition that IIenL!;ist, Saint ^Mildred, and the Danes came 
there. (Lewis, j). S3; Hasted, iv. 289.) (2) The fact that 
Bede's whole narrative enii)liatieally lands Augustine in Thanet, 
and not on the mainland. (3) The present situation with the 
local tradition, as described in page 33. 

2. The spot called the Boarded Groin (Lewis, p. 83), also 
marked in the Ordnance Survey as the landing-place of the 
Saxons. But this must then have been covered by the sea. 

3. Stonar, near Sandwich. (Sandwich MS., in Boys' Sand- 
wich, p. .S3(J.) But this, even if not covered by the sea, must have 
been a mere island. (Hasted, iv. 585.) 

4. lliehl)orough. (lbi(L, p. 838.) But this was not in the isle 
of Thanet; and the story is ])robably founded partly on Thorn's 
narrative (1758), which, by speaking of " Retesburgh, in insula 
T/umeti," shows that he means the whole port, and partly on its 
havin-i l)een actually the scene of the final debarkation on the 
mainland, as described in page 39. 



G4 



ISLE UF TilA^;LT. 



MAI' OV THE ISLE OF THANET AT THE TIME OF THE 
LANDING OF SAINT AUOL'STINE. 




Present line of coast 

Present towns, as Dedl. 
Ancieni line of coast . . 



Ancient towns, as Recuh-Pi: 

1, 2, .'!, 4, the alleged laucliug-plac€ 



For the best account of the Ivoinan Canterlmrv, see Mr. Faussett's 
learned Essay read before the Archaological Institute, July 1, 1875. 



THE MURDER OF BECKET. 

KEPKIXTKI), WITH ADDITFONS, 
FKOM THK "QUAUTEKLY KKVIEW," SEI'TEMIJEI;, 1853. 



THE MURDER OF RECKET. 



EVERY one is familiar with the reversal of popular 
judgments respecting individuals or events of our 
own time. Tt would be an easy tliough perluqis an invidi- 
ous task, to point out the changes from obloquy to ap- 
plause, and from applause to obloquy, which the present 
generation has witnessed ; and it would lie instructive 
to examine in each case how fai these changes have 
been justified by the facts. What thoughtful observers 
may thus notice in the passing opinions of the day, it 
is the privilege of history to track througli the course 
of centuries. ()f such vicissitudes in the judgment of 
successive ages, oiu3 of the most striking is to be found 
in the conflicting feelings with which different epochs 
have regarded the contest of Becket with Henry II. 
During its continuance the public opinion of England 
and of Europe was, if not unfavoral)le to the Arch- 
bishop, at least strongly divided. After its tragical 
close, the change fr(jm indifference or hostility to un- 
bounded veneration was instantaneous. In certain 
circles his saintship, and even his salvation,^ was ques- 
tioned ; but these were exceptions to the general enthu- 
siasm. This veneration, after a duration of more than 
three centuries, was superseded, at least in England, by 

1 14 Robertsou, p. 312. 



68 VAlilETV OF JUIXJMKNTS ON TIIK EVENT. 

a contempt <is general and prut'ound as liad been the 
previous admiration. And now, after three centuries 
more, the revohition of the wheel of fortune lias again 
brought up, both at home and abroad, worshippers of 
the memory of Saint Thomas of Canterbury, who rival 
the most undoubting devotee that ever knelt at his 
shrine in the reign of the Plantagenet kings. Indica- 
tions^ are not wanting that the pendulum which has 
been so violently swung to and fro is at last about to 
settle into its proper place ; and we may trust that on 
this, as on many other controverted historical points, a 
judgment will be pronounced in our own times, which, 
if not irreversible, is less likely to be reversed than 
those which have gone before. But it may contribute 
to the decision upon the merits of the general (piestion, 
if a complete picture is presented of the passage of his 
cai-eer which has left by far the most indelible impres- 
sion,— its terrible close. And even though the famous 
catastrophe had not turned the course of events for 
generations to come, and exercised an influence which 
is not yet fully exhausted, it would still deserve to be 
minutely described, from its intimate connection witii 

1 The TJev. J. C. Robertson, since Canon of Canterbiirv, was the 
fir.st author wlio, in two articles in the " English Keview " of 1846, 
tooic a detailed and impartial survey of the wiiole struggle. To tliese 
articles I have to acknowledge a special obligation, as having first 
introduced me to tlie copious materials from whicli this account is de- 
rived. This summary has since been expanded into a full Ijiograpliy. 
A shorter view of tlie struggle may be seen in the narrative given by 
the Dean of St. Paul's, in the third volume of the " History of Latin 
Christianity," and in the " History of P^ngland," by Dr. Pauli, to wliose 
kindness I have been also much indebted for some of the sources of 
tlie " martj-rdom." An interesting account of Becket's death is affixed 
to the collection of his letters published in tiie " Remains of the Late 
Mr. Froude." But that account, itself pervaded by a one-sided view, 
is almost exclusively drawn from a single source, the narrative of 
Fitzstephen. 



SOURCES OF INFORMATION. 09 

the stateliest of English cathedrals and with the first 
great poem of the English language. 

The labor of Dr. Giles has collected no less than 
nineteen biographies, or fragments of biographies, all of 
which appear to have been written within fifty years of 
the murder, and some of which are confined to that sin- 
gle subject.^ To these we must add the French biogra- 
phy in verse 2 by Guerns, or Gamier, of Pont S. Maxence, 
which was composed only five years after the event, — 
the more interesting from being the sole record which 
gives the words of the actors in the language in which 
they spoke ; and although somewhat later, that by 
liobert of Gloucester in the thirteenth,'^ and by Grandi- 
son. Bishop of Exeter, in the fourteenth century.* We 
must also include the contemporary or nearly contem- 
porary chroniclers, — Gervase, Diceto, Hoveden, and 
Giraldus Cambrensis and the fragment from the Lans- 
downe MS. edited by Canon llobertson;'^ and, in the 
next century, Matthew Paris and pjrompton. 

Of these thirty narrators, four — Edward Grim, 
William Fitzstephen, John of Salisbury (wlio unfortu- 
nately supplies but little), and the anonymous author 
of the Laml)eth MS. — claim to have been eyewitnesses. 
Three others — William of Canterbury,*' Benedict, after- 

1 V\tx ot Fpist<ilre S. TliuHKf raiitiinricnsis, ed. Giles, 8 vols. 

- r.irt of tho poem w;is ]iiililislifil liy Fimuanuel Bekker, in tlie 
Berlin Transat-tioiis, 1838, part ii. pp. 2."j-l(J8, from a fragment in tlic 
Wolfenhnttel MSS. ; and the whole has since appeared in the same 
Transactions, 1844, from a nianu.script in the Britisli Musenm. It was 
also ])ul)lislied in Paris, by Le R'oux de Lancy, in 1843. 

3 Tins metrical "' Life and Martyrdom of Saint Thomas " (composed 
in the reign of Henry III.) has licen jirintcd for the Percy Society, and 
edited by Mr. Black. 

•• (irandison's Life exists only in mannscrijit. The copy which I have 
used is in the Bodleian I-ilirary (MS. 41t.'i). 

5 Archivologia Cantiana, vii. 210 

^ A conijjlete maunscrijit of William <if Canterhnry has been found 



70 SOURCES OF INFORMATION. 

wards Abbot of Peterborough, and Gervase of Canter- 
bury — were monks of the convent, and, though not 
present at the massacre, were probably somewhere in 
the precincts. Herbert of Bosham, Eoger of Pontigny, 
and Garnier, though not in Enghxnd at the time, had 
been on terms of intercourse more or less intimate with 
Becket, and the two latter especially seem to have taken 
the utmost pains to ascertain the truth of the facts 
they relate. Prom these several accounts we can re- 
cover the particulars of the death of Archbishop Becket 
to the minutest details. It is true that, being written 
by monastic or clerical historians after the national 
feeling had been roused to enthusiasm in his behalf, 
allowance must be made for exaggeration, suppression, 
and every kind of false coloring which could set off 
their hero to advantage. It is true, also, that on some 
few points the various authorities are hopelessly irrec- 
oncilable. But, still, a careful comparison of the narra- 
tors with each other and with the localities leads to a 
conviction that on the whole the facts have been sub- 
stantially preserved, and that, as often happens, the truth 
can be ascertained in spite, and even in consequence, 
of attempts to distort and suppress it. Accordingly, few 
occurrences in the Middle Ages have been so graphi- 
cally and copiously described, and few give such an 
insight into the manners and customs, the thoughts and 
feelings, not only of the man himself, but of the entire 
age, as the eventful tragedy, known successively as the 
" martyrdom," the " accidental death," the " righteous 
execution," and the " murder of Thomas Becket." 

The year 1170 witnessed the termination of the 
struggle of eight years between the king and the 

by Mr. Robertson at Wincliester, of wliicb parts are published in the 
" Arclijeologia Cantiana," vi. 4. 



1170.] CORONATION OF IIKNKY HI. 71 

Archbishop ; in July the final reconciliation had been 
effected with Henry in Prance ; in the beginning of 
December, Becket had landed at Sandwich,^ — the port 
of the Archbishops of Canterbury, — and thence entered 
the metropolitical city, after an absence of six years, 
amidst the acclamations of the people. The cathedral 
was hung with silken drapery ; magnificent banquets 
were prepared ; the churches resounded with organs 
and bells, the palace-hall with trumpets ; and the Arch- 
bishop preached in the chapter-house on the text " Here 
we have no abiding city, but we seek one to come.'' ^ 
Great difficulties, however, still remained. In addition 
to the general question of the immunities of the clergy 
from secular jurisdiction, which was the original point 
in dispute between the king and the Archbishop, another 
had arisen within this very year, of much less impt)r- 
tance in itself, but which now threw the earlier contro- 
versy into the shade,'' and eventually brought about the 
final catastrophe. In the preceding Jane, Henry, with 
the view of consolidating his power in England, had 
caused his eldest son to be crowned king, not merely 
as his successor, but as his colleague, insomuch that 
by contemporary chroniclers he is always called " the 
young king," sometimes even "Henry III."'* In the 
ab.sence of the Archbishop of Canterbury the cerenu)ny 
of coronation was performed by Iioger of Bishop's 
Bridge, Archbishop of York, assisted by Gilbert Foliot 
and Jocelyn the Lombard, lUshops of London and of 
Salisbury, under (what was at least believed to be) the 
sanction of a Papal brief.^ The moment the intelli- 

1 Gamier, 59, 9. - Fitzstcplien, ed. Giles, i. 283. 

3 Giles, Epp., i. 0.5. 

* Hence, perhap.s, the precision with which the inniiber " III." i.s 
added (for the first, time) on the coins of Henry III. 
^ See Mihnan's History of Latin Christianitv, iii. 510, 511. 



72 CONTROVERSY WITH ARClililSIIOr OF YORK. [1170. 

gence was communicated to Becket, wlio was then in 
France, a new blow seemed to be struck at his rights ; 
but this time it was not the privileges of his order, but 
of his ofhce, that were attacked. The inalienable right ^ 
of crowning the sovereigns of England, from the time 
of Augustine downwards, inherent in the See of Canter- 

1 Tliis contest with Becket for the privilege!? of the See of York, 
though tlie most important, was not tlie only one which Archbishop 
Roger sustained. At the Oourt of Northampton their crosses had al- 
ready confronted each othei-, like hostile spears. (Fitzstephen, 220.) 
It was a standing question between the two Archbishops, and Roger 
continueil to maintain iirc-cniiiicm c oi Ills see against Becket's succes- 
sor. '• In 1 17<i," sHvs iMill.T, "a syiuid was called at Westminster, the 
Pope's legate being present thereat; on whose right hand sat Richard, 
Archbishop of Canterbury, as in his proper place ; when in sprinLiS 
Roger of York, and finding Canterbury so seated, fairly sits him 
tlown on Canterbury's lap, "irreverently jiressing his haunches down 
upon the Ai'chbishop," says Stephen of Birchingtou. " It matters as 
little to the reader as to the writei-," the historian continues, "Avhether 
Roger beat Richard, or Richard beat Roger; yet, once for all, we will 
reckon up the arguments wliicli each see alleged for its ])roceedings," 
— whicli accordingly follow with liis usual racy humor. (Fuller's 
Church History, iii. § 3 ; see also Memorials of Westminster, cha]). v.) 
Nor was York the only see which contested the Primacy of Canter- 
bury at this momentous crisis, (iilbert Foliot endeavored in his own 
l)erson to revive the claims of London, whicli had been e.xtinct from 
the fabulous age of Lucius, son of Cnlc. "He aims," says John of 
Salisiiury, in an epistle burning witli imlignatinn, — ■" he aiuLS at trans- 
ferring the metropolitical see to London, where he boasts that the 
Archtiamen once sate, whilst Jupiter was worshi])]ied there. And who 
knows but that this religious and di.screet bishoj) is planning tiie 
restoration of the worship of Jupiter ; so that, if he cannot get the 
Archbishopric in any other way, he may have at least the name and 
title of Archtiamen ? He relies," continues the angry partisan, "on an 
oracle of Merlin, who, inspired by 1 know not what spirit, is said be- 
fore Augustine's coming to have prophesied the transference of the 
dignity of Canterbury to London." (Usslier, Brit. Feci. Ant., p. 711.) 
The importance attached to this question of coronation may be further 
illustrated by the long series of effigies of the primates of Germany, in 
Mayence Cathedral, where the Archl)ishops of that see — the Canter- 
burv of the German Empire — are represented in the act of crowning 
the German Emperors as the inost characteristic trait in their archi- 
ep:scop<al careers. 



;i70.] CONTROVERSY WITH ARCHBISHOP OF YORK. 73 

bury., had been infringed ; and with his usnal ardor lie 
procured from the Pope letters against the three prel- 
ates who had taken part in the daring act, probably 
with the authority of the Tope himself. These letters 
consi.sted of a su.spensiun of the Archbishop of York, 
and a revival of a former excommunication of the Pilsh- 
ops of London and Salisbury. His earliest thought 
on landing in England was to get them conveyed to the 
offending prelates, wlio were then at Dover. They sent 
some clerks to remonstrate with 1dm at Canterbury ; 
but liudiug that he was not to be moved, they em- 
barked for France, leaving, liowever, a powerful an.xil- 
iary in the person of L'andulf de Eroc, a knight to 
whom the king had granted possession of the archi- 
episcopal castle of Saltwood, and who was for this, if for 
no other reason, a sworn enemy to Becket and his re- 
turn. The first object of the Archbishop was to con- 
ciliate the young king, who was then at Woodstock ; 
and his mode of courting him was characteristic. Three 
splendid^ charger.?, of which his previous experience of 
horses enabled him to know the merits, were the gift 
by which he hoped to win over the ndnd of his former 
])upil ; and he himself, after a week's stay at Canter- 
Iniry, followed the messenger who was to announce his 
present to the prince. Pie passed through Eochester in 
state, entered London in a vast procession that ad- 
vanced three miles out of the city to meet him, and 
took up his quarters at Southwark, in the palace of 
the aged Bishop of Winchester, Henry of Blois, brother 
of King Stephen. Here he received orders from the 
young king to proceed no further, but return instantly 
to Canterbury. In obedience to the command, but 
professedly (and this is a characteristic illustration of 

1 Fitzsteplieu, i. 284, 285. 



74 PARTING WITH THE ABBOT OF ST. ALBANS. [1170. 

much that follows) from a desire to be at his post on 
Christmas Day, he relinquished his design, and turned 
for the last time from the city of his birth to the city 
of his death. 

One more opening of reconciliation occurred. Be- 
fore he finally left the vicinity of London he halted 
for a few days at his manor-house at Harrow, probably 
to make inquiries about a contumacious priest who then 
occupied the vicarage of that town. He sent thence to 
the neighboring abbey of St. Albans to request an in- 
terview with the Abbot Simon.^ The Abl)ot came 
over with magnificent presents from the good cheer of 
his abbey ; and tlie Archbishop was deeply affected on 
seeing him, embraced and kissed him tenderly, and 
urged him, jiressing the Abbot's hand to his heart 
under his cloak and (juivering with emotion, to make 
a last attempt on the mind of the prince. The Abbot 
went to Woodstock, but returned without success. 
Uecket, heaving a deep sigh and shaking his head 
significantly, said, " Let be, — let be. Is it not so, 
is it not so, that the days of the end hasten to their 
completion ? " He then endeavored to console his 
friend : " My Lord Abbot, many thanks for your fruit- 
less labor. The sick man is sometimes beyond the 
reach of physicians, but he will soon bear his own 
judgment." He then turned to the clergy around 
him, and said, with tlie deep feeling of an injured 
primate, "Look 3^ou, my friends, the Abbot, who is 
bound by no obligations to me, has done more for 
me than all my brother -bishops and suffragans ; " al- 
luding especially to tlie charge which the Abbot had 

1 This interview is given .it length in Mattliew Paris, who, as a 
monk of St. Albans, probably derived it from the traditions of the 
Abbey. (Hist. Angl., 124; Vit. Abbat., 91.) 



1170] INSULTS FROM THE BROCS OF SALTWODD. 75 

left with the cellarer of St. Alhans to supply the 
Archbishop with everything during his own absence 
at Woodstock. At last the day of parting came. The 
Abbot, with clasped hands, entreated Becket to spend 
the approaching festival of Christmas and St. Stephen's 
Day at his own abbey of the great British martyr. 
Becket, moved to tears, replied : " Oh, how gladly 
would I come, but it has been otherwise ordered. 
Go in peace, dear brother, go in peace to your church, 
which may God preserve ! but I go to a sufficient 
excuse for my not going with you. But come with 
me, and be my guest and comforter in my many 
troubles." They parted on the high ridge of the hill 
of Harrow, to meet no more. 

It was not without reason that the Arclibishop's 
mind was tilled with gloomy forebodings. Tlie first 
open manifestations of hostility proceeded from the 
family of the l>rocs of Saltwood. Already tidings 
had reached him that Rnndulf de Broc had seized a 
vessel laden with wine from the king, and had killed 
the crew, or imprisoned them in Pevensey Castle. Tbis 
injury was promptly repaired at tlie bidding of the 
young king, to whom the Archbishop had sent a com- 
plaint through the Prior of Dover ^ and the friendly 
Abbot of St. Albans. But the enmity of the Brocs 
was not so easily allayed. No soonin- had the Primate 
reached Canterbury than he was met Ijy a series of 
fresh insults. [Dec. 24.] Randulf, he was told, was 
hunting down his arciiiepiscopal deer with his own 
dogs in his own woods ; and Eobert, another of the 
same family, wlio had been a Cistercian monk, but 
had since taken to a secular life, sent out his nephew 
John to waylay and cut off the tails of a sumpter 
1 Fitzstephen, i. 2SG. 



76 SCENE IN THE CATHEDRAL CilHISTMAS DAY. [1170 

mule and a horse of the Archbishop. This jest, or 
outrage (according as we regard it), which occurred 
on Christmas p]ve, took deep possession of Becket's 
mind.' On Christmas Day, after the solemn celebra- 
tion of the usual midnight Mass, he entered the ca- 
thedral for the services of that great festival. Before 
the performance of High Mass he mounted the pulpit 
in the chapter-house, and preached on the text, " On 
earth, peace to men of good will." It was the reading 
(perhaps the true reading) of the Vulgate version, and 
had once before afforded him the opportunity of reject- 
ing the argument on his return that he ought to come 
in peace. " There is no peace," he said, " but to men 
of good will." ^ On this limitation of the universal 
message of Christian love he now proceeded to dis- 
course. He began by speaking of the sainted fathers 
of the church of Canterbury, the presence of whose 
bones made doubly hallowed the consecrated ground. 
" One martyr," he said, " they had already," — Alfege, 
murdered by the Danes, whose tomb stood on the north 
side of the high altar ; " it was possible," he added, " that 
they would soon have another."^ The people who 
thronged the nave were in a state of wild excitement ; 
they wept and groaned ; and an audible murmur ran 
through the cluirch, " Father, why do you desert us so 
soon ? To whom will you leave us ? " But as he went 
on with his discourse, the plaintive strain gradually 
rose into a tone of fiery indignation. " You would have 
thought," says Herbert of Bosliam, who was present, 
" that you were looking at the prophetic beast, which 
had at once the face of a man and the face of a lion." 
He spoke, — the fact is recorded by all the biographers 
without any sense of its extreme hicongruity, — he 
1 Fitzstepheu, i. 287. ^ Ibid., 283. '■> Ibid., 292. 



.170.) SCENE IN THE CATHEDRAL CHRISTMAS DAY. 77 

spoke of the insult of the docked taiP of the suinpter 
mule, and, in a voice of tliunder,^ excommunicated 
liandulf and Eobert de JJroc ; and in the same sen- 
tence included the Vicar of Thirlvvood, and Nigel of 
Sackville, the Vicar of Harrow, for occujiying those 
incundjrances without his authority, and refusing ac- 
cess to liis officials.-' He also publicly denounced and 
forbade communication with the tiiree bishops who 
by crowning the young king had not feared to en- 
croach upon the prescriptive rights of the church of 
Canterbury. " May they be cursed," he said, in con- 
clusion, " by Jesus Christ, and may their memory be 
blotted out of the assembly of the saints, whoever shall 
sow hatred and discord between me and my Lord the 
King."'* With these words he dashed the candle on 
the pavement,^ in token of the extinction of his ene- 
mies ; and as he descended from the pulpit to pass to 
the altar to celebrate Mass, he repeated to his Welsh 
cross-bearer, iMexander Llewellyn, the prophetic words, 
"One martyr, Saint Alfege, you have already; another, 
if God will, you will have soon." ° Tlie service in the 
cathedral was followed by the banquet in his hall, at 

1 According to the popular l)e]ief, the excommunication of tlie 
Broc family was not the only time that Becket avenged a similar 
offence. Lambard, in his " Peramhnlations of Kent," say.s that the 
people of Stroud, near Rochester, insulted Becket as he rode through 
the town, and, like the Rrocs, cut off the tails of his horses. Their 
descendants, as a judgment for the crime, were ever after horn with 
horses' tails. (See, however, the previous Lecture, p. 6L) A curse 
lighted also on the blacksmiths of a town where one of that trade had 
"dogged his horse." (Fuller's Worthies. ) "Some in Spain (to my 
own knowledge), at this very day, believe that the English, e.spccially 
the Kentish men, are born with tails for curtailing Becket's mule." 
(Covel on the Greek Church, Preface, p. xv.) 

2 Herbert, i. 323 ; Gamier, 03, 4. » Gnrnier, 71, 1.5. 

4 Fitzstephcn, i. 292. 5 Grim, ed. Giles, 1. 68. 

« ritz.stejdien, i. 292. 



78 LAST ACTS OF BECKET. [1170. 

which, although Christmas Day fell this year on a Fri- 
day, it was observed that he ate as usual, in honor of 
the joyous festival of the Nativity. On the next day, 
Saturday, the Feast of Saint Stephen, and on Sunday, 
the Feast of Saint John, he again celebrated Mass ; and 
towards the close of the day, under cover of the dark, 
he sent away, with messages to the King of France and 
the Archbishop of Sens, his faithful servant Herbert of 
Bosham, telling him that he would see him no more, 
but that he was anxious not to expose him to the fur- 
ther suspicions of Henry. Herbert departed with a 
heavy heart,^ and with him went Alexander Llewellyn, 
the Welsh cross-bearer. The Archbishop sent off an- 
other servant to the Pope, and two others to the lUshop 
of Norwich, with a letter relating to Hugh, Earl of 
Norfolk. He also drew up a deed appointing his priest 
William to the chapelry of Penshurst, with an excom- 
munication against any one who should take it from 
him.2 These are his last recorded public acts. On the 
night of the same Sunday he received a warning let- 
ter from France, announcing that he was in peril from 
some new attack.^ What this was, is now to lie told. 

The three prelates of York, London, and Salisbury, 
having left England as soon as they heard that the 
Archbishop was immovable, arrived in France a few 
days before Christmas,'* and immediately proceeded 
to the king, who was then at the Castle of Bur, near 
Bayeux.^ It was a place already famous in liistory 
as the scene of the interview between William and 

1 Herbert, i. 324, .325. 
■'' Fitzstephen, i. 292, 293. 

3 Anon. Passio Tertia, ed. Giles, ii. 156. 

4 Herbert,!. 319. 

^ Garnier, 65 (who gives the interview in great detail) ; Florence 
of Worcester, i. 153. 



1170.] FURY OF THE KING. 79 

Harold, when the oath which led to the conquest of 
England was perfidiously exacted and sworn. All 
manner of rumors about Becket's pr(jceedings had 
reached the ears of Henry, and he l)esonght the ad- 
vice of the three prelates. The Archbishop of York 
answered cautiously, " Ask council from your barons 
and knights ; it is not for us to say what must be 
done." A pause ensued ; and then it was added, — 
whether by Koger or by some one else does not clearly 
appear, — " As long as Thomas lives, you will have 
neither good days, nor peaceful kingdom, nor f(uiet 
life." ^ The words goaded the king into one of those 
paroxysms of fury to which all tlie earlier riantagenet 
princes were subject, and which was believed by them- 
selves to arise from a mixture of demoniacal blood in 
their race. It is described in Henry's son John as 
"something beyond anger; he was so changed in liis 
whole body, that a man would hardly have known 
him. His forehead was drawn up into deep furrows ; 
his flaming eyes glistened ; a livid hue took the place 
of color." 2 Henry himself is said at these moments 
to have become like a wild beast; his eyes, naturally 
dove-like and quiet, seemed to Hash liglitning ; his 
hands struck and tore whatever came in their way. On 
one occasion he flew at a messenger who brought him 
bad tidings, to tear out his eyes ; at another time he 
is represented as having Hung down his cap, torn off 
his clothes, thrown tlie silk coverlet from his bed, and 
rolled upon it, gnawing the straw and ruslies. Of such 
a kind was the frenzy whicli struck terror through all 
hearts at the Council of Clarendon, and again at North- 
ampton, when with tremendous menaces, sworn upon 
his usual oath, " the eyes of God," he insisted on 

i Fitzstephen, i. tidO. ^ Richard of Devizes, § 40. 



80 THE FOUR KNIGHTS. . 11170. 

Becket's appearance.^ Of such a kind was the frenzy 
which he showed on the present occasion. " A fellow," 
he exclaimed, " that has eaten my hread has lifted np 
his heel against me ; a fellow that I loaded with 
benefits dares insult the king and the whole royal 
family, and trani})les on the whole kingdom ; a fel- 
low that came to court on a lame horse, with a cloak 
for a saddle, sits without hindrance on the throne 
itself ! What sluggard wretches," he burst forth again 
and again, " what cowards have I brought up in my 
court, who care nothing for their allegiance to their 
master ! Not one will deliver me from this low-born 
priest ! " '^ and w4th these fatal words he rushed out of 
the room. 

There were present among the courtiers four knights, 
whose names long lived in the memory of men, and 
every ingenuity was exercised to extract from them an 
evil augury of the deed which has made them famous, 

— Iieginald Fitzurse, " son of tlie Bear," and of truly 
" bear-like " character (so the Canterbury monks repre- 
sented it); Hugh de Moreville, "of the city of death" 

— of whom a dreadful story was told of his having 
ordered a young Saxon to be boiled alive on the false 
accusation of his wife; William de Tracy, — a brave 
soldier, it was said, but " of parricidal wickedness ; " 
Richard le Brez, or le Bret, commonly known as Brito, 
from the Latinized version of his name in the " Chron- 
icles," — more fit, they say, to have been called the 
" Brute." 2 They are all described as on familiar terms 

1 Roger, 124, 104. 

^ Will. Cant., ed. Giles, ii. 30; Grim, 68; Gervase, 1414. 

3 Will. Cant., 31. This play on tjie word will appear less strange, 
when we remember the legendary superstructure built on the identity 
of the Trojan Brutus with the primitive Briton. See Lambard's Kent, 
p. 306. Fitzurse is called simply "Reginald Bure." 



2170] THEIR IIISTOKY. 81 

with tlie king- himself, and sometimes, in official lan- 
guage, as gentlemen of the bedchamber.^ They also 
appear to have been brought together by old associa- 
tions. Fitzurse, Moreville, and Tracy had all sworn 
homage to Becket while Chancellor. Fitzurse, Tracy, 
and Bret had all connections with Somersetshire. 
Their rank and lineage can even now be accurately 
traced through the medium of our county historians 
and legal records. Moreville was of higher rank and 
office than the others. He was this very year Justice 
Itinerant of the counties of Northumberlar.d and Cum- 
berland, where he inherited the barony of Burgh-on- 
the-Sands and other possessions from his father Koger 
and his grandfather Simon. He was likewise forester 
of Cumberland, owner of the Castle of Knaresborough, 
and added to his paternal property that of his wife, 
Helwise de Stute-ville.^ Tracy was the younger of 
two brothers, sons of John de Sudely and (Jrace de 
Traci. He took the name of his mother, who was 
daughter of William de Traci, a natural son of Henry 
the First. On his father's side he was descended from 
the Saxon Ethelred. He was born at Toddington, in 
Gloucestershire,^ where, as well as in Devonshire,"* he 
held large estates. Fitzurse was the descendant of 
Urso, or Ours, who had, under the Conqueror, held 
Grittleston in Wiltshire, of the Abliey of Glastonbury. 
His father, Eichard Fitzurse, became possessed, in the 
reign of Stephen, of the manor of Willeton in Somer- 
setshire, which had descended to Eeginald a few years 

1 Cubicularii. 

2 Foss's Ju(1<res of England, i. 279. 

3 Rudder's Gloucestershire, 770 ; Pedigree of the Tracys, in Britton's 
Toddington. 

* Liber Niger Scaccarii, 115-221. 



82 THE KNIGHTS SET OUT. [1170. 

before the time of which we are speak ing.^ He was 
also a tenant in chief in Northamptonshire, in tail in 
Leicestershire.^ llichard the Breton was, it would ap- 
pear from an incident in the murder, intimate with 
Prince William, the king's brother.^ He and his 
brother Edmund had succeeded to their father Simon 
le Bret, who had probably come over with the Con- 
queror from Brittany, and settled in Somersetshire, 
where the property of the family long continued in 
the same rich vale under the Quantock Hills, which 
contains Willeton, the seat of the Fitzurses.* There 
is some reason to suppose that he was related to (lil- 
bert Foliot.^ If so, his enmity to the Archbishop is 
easily explained. 

It is not clear on what day the fatal exclamation of 
the king was made. Fitzstephen "^ reports it as taking 
place on Suiulay, the 27th of December. Others," who 
ascribe a more elaborate character to the whole plot, 
date it a few days before, on Thuisday the 24th, — the 
whole Court taking part in it, and Eoger, Archbisho}) of 
York, giving full instructions to tlie knights as to their 
future course. This perhaps arose from a confusion with 
the Council of Barons ^ actually held after the departure 
of the knights, of which, however, the chief result was 
to send three courtiers after them to arrest their prog- 
ress. This second mission arrived too late. The four 
knights left Bur on the night of the king' fuiy. They 
tlieii, it was thought, proceeded l)y different roads to the 
French coast, and crossed the Channel on the following 

1 CoUiuson's Somersetshire, iii. 487. 

2 Liber Niger Scaccarii, 216-288. 3 Fjtzstcphen, i. non. 
* Collinsoii'.s Somersetshire, iii. 514. 

See Robertson's Becket, 266. « ritz.stcphen, i. 290. 

' Garnier, 65, 17 ; so also Gervasc's Ciironicle, 1414. 
8 Kobertsou's Becket, 268. 



1170 I rilKY ARRR'E AT ST. AUCiUSTINK'S ABUF-Y. 83 

day. Two of them landed, as was afterwards noticed 
with malicious satisfaction, at the port of "i^'oys" near 
Dover,^ two of them at W'inchelsea ;- and all four ar- 
rived at the same hour'^ at the fortress of Saltwood 
Castle, the property of the .See of Canterbury, but now 
occupied, as we have seen, by Eecket's chief enemy, — 
Dan Eandulf of Kroc, who came out to welcome them.'* 
Here they would doubtless be told of the excommu- 
nication launched against their host on Christmas 
Day. In the darkness of the niglit — the long win- 
ter night of the 1^8th of Decern hit •'' — it was believed 
that, with candles extinguished, and not even seeing 
each other's faces, the scheme was concerted. Early 
in the morning of the next day they issued orders in 
the king's name " for a troop of soldiers to be levied 
from the neighborhood to march with them to Can- 
terbury. They themselves mounted their chargers and 
galloped along the old Roman road from Lymne to Can- 
terbury, which, under the name of Stone Street, runs in 
a straight line of ncai'ly liftecn miles h'om Saltwood 
to the liills immediately aliove the city. They pro- 
ceeded instantly to St. Augustine's Abl)ey, outsitle the 
walls, and took up their quarters with Clarembald, the 
Abbot.' 

The abbey was in a state of considerable confusion at 
the time of their arrival. A destructive fire had ravaged 
the buildings two years before,^ and the reparations 
could hardly have been yet completed. Its domestic 
state was still more disturlied. It was now nearly ten 
years since a feud had l)een raging between the in- 

1 Grim.fiO; Gervase's Chronicle, 1414. 

2 Gamier, r,6, 67. 3 Fitzstephen, i. 290. 
* Garnier, 66, 29. 5 Gamier, 66, 22. 

8 Griin, 69; Roger, i. 160; Fitzstcplicn, i. 29.'?; Gamier, 66, 6. 
^ (k'rva.se's Cliroiiitle, 1414. ^ Tliom'.s Gliroiiicle, 1817. 



84 THE FATAL TUKSDAY. [1170. 

mates and their Abbot, wlio had been intruded nn them 
in 1162, as Becket had been on the ecclesiastics of 
the cathedra], — but with the ultimate difference that 
whilst Becket had become the champion of the clergy, 
Clarembald had stood fast by the king, his patron, 
which perpetuated the quarrel between the monks and 
their superior. He had also had a dispute with Becket 
about his right of benediction in the abbey, and had 
been employed by the king against him on a mission 
in France. He would, therefore, naturally be eager to 
receive the new-comers ; and with him they concerted 
measures for their future movements.^ Having sent 
orders to the mayor, or provost, of Canterbury to issue 
a proclamation in the king's name, forbidding any one 
to offer assistance to the Archbishop,^ the knights once 
more mounted their chargers, and accompanied by Bol)- 
ert of Broc, who had probably attended them from 
Saltwood, rode under the long line of wall which still 
separates the city and the precincts of the cathedral 
from St. Augustine's Monastery, till they reached the 
great gateway which opened into the court of the 
Archbishop's palace.^ They were followed by a liand 
of about a dozen armed men, wdiom they placed in the 
house of one Gilbert,^ wliich stood hard by the gate. 

It was Tuesday, the 29th of December. Tuesday, 
his friends remarked, had always been a significant day 
in Becket's life. On a Tuesday he was born and bap- 
tized ; on a Tuesday he had fled from Northampton ; 
on a Tuesday he had left England on his exile ; on a 

1 Gervase's Chronicle, 1414. ^ Gamier, 66, 10. 

^ The Archbishop's palace is now almost entirely destroyed, and its 
place occupied by modern houses. But an ancient gateway on tht 
site of the one here mentioned, thougli uf later date, still leads from 
Pnltire Street into these houses. 

* Fitzstephen, i. 297. 



1170.] THE FATAL TUESDAY. 85 

Tuesday lie had received warning of his martyrdom in 
a vision at Tontigny ; on a Tuesday he had returned 
from that exile. It was now on a Tuesday that the fa- 
tal hour came ; ^ and (as the next generation observed) 
it was ou a Tuesday that his enemy King Henry was 
buried, on a Tuesday that the martyr's relics were 
translated ; '^ and Tuesday was long afterwards re- 
garded as the week-day especially consecrated to the 
saint with whose fortunes it had thus been so strangely 
interwoven.^ Other omens were remarked. A sol- 
dier who was in the plot whispered to one of the 
cellarmen of the Priory that the Archbishop would not 
see the evening of Tuesday. Becket only smiled. A 
citizen of Canterbury, Eeginald by name, had told him 
that there were several in England who were bent on 
his death ; to which he answered, with tears, that he 
knew he should not be killed out of church.* He 
himself had told several persons in France, that he 
was convinced he should not outlive the year,^ and in 
two days the year would be ended. 

Whether these evil auguries weighed upon his mind, 
or whether his attendants afterwards ascribed to his 
words a more serious meaning than they really bore, 
the day opened with gloomy forebodings. Before the 
br§ak of dawn the Archbishop startled the clergy of 
his bedchamber by asking whether it would be possi- 
ble for any one to escape to Sandwich before daylight, 
and on being answered in the affirmative, added, " Let 

1 Robert of Gloucester, Life of Becket, 28.5. 

2 Diceto (Giles), i 377 ; Matthew Paris, 97. It was the fact of the 
29th of December falling on a Tuesday that fixes the date of his death 
to 1170, not 1171. (Gervase, 1418.) 

■^ See the deed rjuoted in " Journal of the British ArchiBological As- 
sociation," April, 18.54. 

* Graudison, c. 5. See p. 81. ^ Benedict. 71. 



86 THE KNIGHTS ENTER THE PALACE. [1170 

any one escape who wishes." That mornhig he attended 
Mass in the cathedral ; then passed a long time in the 
chapter-house, confessing to two of the monks, and re- 
ceiving, as seems to have been his custom, three scourg- 
ings.i Then came the usual banquet in the great hall 
of the palace at three in the afternoon. He was ob- 
served to drink more than usual ; and his cup-bearer, 
in a whisper, reminded him of it.^ '■ He who has 
much blood to shed," answered Becket, " must drink 
much." ^ 

The dinner* was now over; the concluding hymn or 
"grace" was finished,^ and Becket liad retired to his 
private room,® wliere he sat on his bed," talking to his 
friends ; whilst tlie servants, according to the practice 
which is still preserved in our old collegiate establish- 
ments, remained in the hall making their meal of the 
broken meat which was left.^ The floor of the hall was 
strewn with fresh hay and straw,^ to accommodate with 
clean places those who could not find room on the 
benches; ^^ and the crowd of beggars and poor," who 
daily received their food from the Archbishop, had 
gone ^2 into the outer yard, and were lingering before 
their final dispersion. It was at this moment that the 
four knights dismounted in the court before the hall.^'^ 
The doors were all open, and they passed through the 

1 Gamier, 70, 2.5. 

2 Anon. Lambeth, ed. Giles, ii. 121 ; Ro<,-er, 169; Gamier, 77, 2. 
^ Graudisou, c. 5. See p. 61. 

4 Ibid. 

^ For the acrount of his dinners, see Herbert, &3. 64, 70, 71. 
^ Grim, 70 ; Benedict, ii. 55. 

' Roger, 163. f Gamier, 20, 10. 

^ Eitzstephen, i. 189. This was in winter. In summer it would have 
been fre.^h rushes and green leaves. 

I'J (irim, 70 ; Fitzstephen, i. 294. " Gamier, 66, 17. 

1- Fitzstephen, i. 310. i3 Gervase, 1415. 



1170.] ArPEAKAXCE OF BECKET. 87 

crowd without opposition. Either to avert suspicion or 
from deference to the feeling of the time, which forljade 
the entrance of armed men into tlie peaceful precincts 
of the cathedral,^ they left their weapons behind, and 
their coats of mail w^ere concealed by tlie usual cloak 
and gown,^ the dress of ordinary life. One attendant, 
Radulf, an archer, followed tliem. They were generally 
known as courtiers ; and the servants invited them to 
partake of the remains of the feast. They declined, 
and were pressing on, when, at the foot of the staircase 
leading from the hall to the Archbishop's room, they 
were met by William Fitz-Nigel, the seneschal, who 
had just parted from the Primate with a permission to 
leave his service and join the king in France. When 
he saw the knights, whom he immediately recognized, 
he ran forward and gave them the usual kiss of saluta- 
tion, and at their request ushered them to the morn 
where Becket sat. " My Lord," he said, " here are four 
knights from King Henry, wishing to speak to you." ^ 
" Let them come in," said Becket. It must have been 
a solemn moment, even for those rough men, when they 
first found themselves in tlie presence (if the Arch- 
bishop. Three of them — Hugh de Mureville, Begi- 
nald Fitzurse, and William de Tracy — had known him 
long before in the days of his splendor as Chancellor 
and favorite of the king. He was still in the vigor 
of strength, though in his fifty-third year : his counte- 
nance, if we may judge of it from the accounts at the 
close of the day, still retained its majestic and striking 
aspect; his eyes were large and piercing, and always 

1 Grim, 70 ; Roger, 161. 

2 Garnier, 66, 2.5; 67, 10; Knger, 161 ; Grim, 70. See the Arch- 
bishop'.s permission in page 54. 

2 Garnier, 67, 15. 



88 THE KNIGHTS' INTERVIEW WITH BECKET. [1170. 

glancing to and fro;^ and his talP figure, though really 
spare and thin, had a portly look from the number of 
wrappings which he bore beneath his culinary clothes. 
Hound about him sat or lay on the floor the clergy of 
his household, — amongst them, his faithful counsellor, 
John of Salisbury ; William Fitzstephen, his chaplain ; 
and Edward Grim, a Saxon monk of Cambridge,'^ who 
had arrived but a few days before on a visit. 

When the four knights appeared, Becket, without 
looking at them, pointedly continued his conversation 
with the monk who sat next him, and on whose shoul- 
der he was leaning.'* They, on their part, entered with- 
out a word, beyond a greeting exchanged in a wliis}>er 
to the attendant who stood near the door,^ and then 
marched straight to where the Archbishop sat, and 
placed themselves on the floor at his feet, among the 
clergy who were reclining around. liadulf, the archer, 
sat behind them ^ on the boards. Becket now turned 
round for the first time, and gazed steadfastly on each 
in silence," which he at last bruke by saluting Tracy 
by name. The conspirators continued to look minutely 
at one another, till Fitzurse,'' who throughout took the 
lead, replied, with a scornful expression, " God help 
you I " Becket's face grew crimson,^ and he glanced 
round at their countenances,^*^ which seemed to gather 
fire from Fitzurse's speech. Fitzurse again broke forth: 
"We have a message from the king over the water; 
tell us whether you will hear it in private, or in the 
hearing of all." ** " As you wish," said the Archbishop. 

1 Herbert, i. 6.3. - Fitzstepheii, i. 18.5. 

3 Herbert, i. 337. ^ Gamier, 67, 20, 26. 

5 Benedict, 55. 6 Koger, 161 ; Garnier, 67. 

■^ Roger, 161. » Roger, 161. 

9 Grim, 70; Garnier, 67, 18. '» Roger, 161. 

" Grim, 70; Roger, IGl ; Garnier, 67, 10-15. 



ilTO] THE KNIGHTS' INTERVIEW WITH BECKET. 89 

" Nay, as ijou wisli," said Fitzurse.^ " Nay, as you wish," 
said Becket. The monks, at the Archbisliop's intima- 
tion, withdrew into an adjoining room ; but the door- 
keeper ran up and kept the door ajar, that they might 
see from the outside what was going on.'-^ Fitzurse 
had hardly begun his message, when Beeket, suddenly 
struck with a consciousness of his danger, exclaimed, 
"This must not be told in secret," and ordered the 
doorkeeper to recall the monks.^ For a few seconds the 
knights were left alone with Becket ; and the thougiit 
occurred to them, as they afterwards confessed, of kill- 
ing him with the cross-staff which lay at his feet, — the 
only weapon within their reach.'* The monks hurried 
back ; and Fitzurse, apparently calmed by their presence, 
resumed his statement of the complaints of the king. 
These complaints,^ which are given by various chroni- 
clers in very different words, were three in number. 
" The king over the water commands you to perform 
your duty to the king on this side the water, instead 
of taking away his crown." " liather than take away 
his crown," replied Becket, " I would give him three or 
four crowns."'^ "You have excited disturbances in the 
kingdom, and the king requires you to answer for them 
at his court." " Never," said the Archbishop, " shall 

1 Roger, 161 ; Gamier, 67, 19. 
. - Roger, 161 ; Benedict, .5.5. 

3 Roger, 162; Benedict, 56; Gamier, 67, 20. 

* Grim, 71 ; Roger, 165 ; Gamier, 67, 25. It was probably Tracy's 
tliought, as his was the confession generally known. 

^ In this dialogue I have not attempted to give more than the 
words of the leading (juestions and answers, in which most of the 
chroniclers are agreed. Where the speeches are recorded with great 
varieties of expre.ssion, it is iiiijxjssihlc to distinguish accurately be- 
tween what was really sjinkcn and \\liat was aflo-wards written as 
likely to have been spoken. 

^ Benedict, 56 ; Gamier, 68. 



90 THE KNIGHTS' INTERVIEW WITH BECKET. [1170. 

the sea again come between me and my chnicli, unless 
I am dragged tlience by the feet." " You have excom- 
municated the bi.'^'hops, and you must absolve tliem." 
" It was not I," replied Becket, "but the Pope, and you 
must go to him for absolution." He then appealed, in 
language which is variously reported, to the promises 
of the king at their interview in the preceding July. 
Fitzurse burst forth : " What is it you say ? You charge 
tlie king with treachery.' " lieginald, Reginald," said 
I'ecket, " I do no such thing ; but I appeal to the arch- 
bishops, bishops, and great people, five hundred and 
more, who heard it ; and you were present yourself, Sir 
Eeginald." " I was not," said licginald ; " I never saw 
nor heard anything of the kind." " You were," said 
Becket; "I saw you."^ The knights, "irritated by con- 
tradiction, swore again and again, "by God's wounds," 
that they had borne with him long enough.^ John of " 
►Salisbury, the prudent counsellor of the Archbishop, 
who perceived that matters were advancing to extremi- 
ties, whispered, " My Lord, speak privately to them 
about this." " No," said Becket ; " they make proposals 
and demands which I cannot and ought not to admit." ^ 
He, in his turn, complained of the insults he had 
received. First came the grand grievances of the pre- 
ceding week. " They liave attacked my servants ; they 
have cut off my sumpter-mule's tail; they have carried 
ofT the casks of wine that were the king"s own gift."* 
It was now that Hugh de Moreville, the gentlest of the 
four,^ put in a milder answer : " Why did you not 

1 He was remarkable for the tenacity of his memory, never forget 
ting what he had heard or learned. (Gervase's Chronicle.) 
■^ Benedict, 59; Garnier, 68, 16. 

3 Fitzstephen, i. 295. 

4 Boger, le.*?; Benedict, 61 ; Gervase, 1415 ; Garnier, 68, 26. 
s Benedict, 62. 



1170 I THE KNI(;ilTS' INTKKVIKW WITH BECKET. 91 

coiii[)laiii to the l<iiig of these outrages? Why do you 
take upou yourself to puuish them by your owu au- 
thority ?" The Archbishop turued rouud sharply upou 
liim : " Hugh, liow proudly you lift up your head ! 
When the rights of the Church are violated, I shall 
wait for no man's ]iermission to avenge them. I will 
give to the king the things that are the king's, but to 
(Jod the things that are God's. It is my business, and I 
alone will see to it."^ For the first time in the inter- 
view, the Archbishop had assumed an attitude of de- 
fiance; the fury of the knights broke at once thrt)ugh 
the bonds which had partially restrained it, and dis- 
played itself openly in those impassioned gestures which 
are now confined to the half-civilized nations of the 
south and east, but which seem to have been natural 
to all classes of mediieval P^urope. Their eyes flashed 
fire ; they sprang upon their feet, and rushing close up 
to him gnashed their teeth, twisted their long gloves, 
and wildly threw tlieir arms above their heads. Fitzurse 
exclaimed : " You threaten us, you threaten us ; - are 
you going to excommunicate us all ? " One of the 
others added : " As I hope for God's mercy, he shall not 
do that ; he has excomnninicated too many already." 
The Archbishop also sprang from his couch, in a state 
of strong excitement. "You threaten me," he said, " in 
vain ; were all the swords in England hanging over 
my head, you could not terrify me from my obedience 
to God, and my Lord the Pope ^ Foot to foot shall you 
find me in the liattle of the Lord.'* Once I gave way. 
I returned to my obedience to the Pope, and will never- 

1 Roger, 16.3, 164. 

'^ Fitzstephen, i. 296. " Miiire, niiiuv," — a conuiiou expression, as it 
would seem. Compare Benedict, 71. 
3 Roger, 163; Benedict, 61 ; Gervase, 1415. < Benedict, 61. 



02 THE KNIGHTS' IXTEin'IKW WITH BKCKET. [UTO. 

more desert it. And, besides, you know what there is 
between you and me ; I wonder the more that you 
should thus threaten the Archbishop in his own house." 
He alluded to the fealty sworn to him while Chancellor 
by Moreville, Titzurse, and Tracy, which touched the 
tenderest nerve of the feudal character. " There is 
nothing," they rejoined, with an anger which they 
doubtless felt to be just and loyal, — " there is nothing 
between you and us which can be against the king." ^ 

Roused by the sudden burst of passion on both sides, 
many of the servants and clergy, with a few soldiers of 
the household, hastened into the room, and ranged 
themselves round the Archljishop. Fitzurse turned 
to them and said, "You who are on tlie king's side, and 
bound to him by your allegiance, stand oh!" They 
remained motionless, and Fitzurse called to them a 
second time, " Guard him ; prevent him from escaping ! " 
The Archbishop said, "I shall not escape." On this 
the knights caught hold of their old acquaintance, 
William Fitz-Nigel, who had entered with the rest, and 
hurried him with them, saying, " Come with us." He 
called out to IJecket, " You see what they are doing 
with me." " I see," replied Becket; " this is their hour, 
and the power of darkness."'^ As they stood at the 
door, they exclaimed,'^ "It is you who threaten;" ami 
in a deep undertone they added some menace, and en- 
joined on the servants obedience to their orders. With 
the quickness of hearing for which he was remarkable, 
he caught the words of their defiance, and darted after 

1 Fitzstepheii, i. 290; firim, 72 ; Anon. Tussio Qninta, 174. 

2 Fitzstejilien, i. 29G. 

3 Gamier, 68, 15. For tlie general fact of the acuteness of his 
senses, hoth hearinji; and smelh see Roger, 9.5. " Vix aliquid in ejus 
presentia licet longiuscul5 et submisse dici posset, quod nou audiret si 
aureni apponere voluisset." 



•ITO.J rilK KNRiHTS' INTERVIEW WITH BECKET. 93 

tlieni to tliu door, entreating them to release Fitz- 
Nigel ; ^ then he implored Moreville, as more courteous 
than the others, to return ^ and repeat their message ; 
and lastly, in despair and indignation, he struck his 
neck repeatedly with his hand, and saitl, " Here, here 
you will tind me." -^ 

The knights, deaf to his solicitations, kept their 
course, seizing as they went another soldier, iJadulf 
Morin, and passed tlirough the hall and court, crying, 
"To arms! to arms !" A few of their companions had 
already taken post within the great gateway, to prevent 
the gate being shut ; the rest, at the shout, poured in 
from the liouse where they were stationed hard by, 
with the watchword, " King's men ! King's men ! " 
(Eecmx ! Ileaiix !) ■ The gate was instantly closed, 
to cut oft' communication with the town ; the Arch- 
bishop's porter was removed, and in front of the 
wicket, which was left open, William Fitz-Nigel, who 
seems suddenly to have turned against his master, and 
Simon of Croil, a soldier attached to the household of 
Clarembald, kept guard on horseback.* The knights 
threw off tiieir cloaks and gowns under a large syca- 
more in the garden,''"' appeared in their armor, and girt 
on their swurds.'' Fitzurse armed himself in the porch/ 
with the assistance of Jiobert Til)ia, trencherman of the 

1 Fitz.stcplicn, i. 29G. - T'ciiodict, 0:2 ; (iiiriiier, (Jt). 

2 Grim, 73 ; Koner, 163 ; Gamier, 69, 5 (tlioiigli lie phu'e.s this speech 
earlier). 

* Fitzstephen, i. 298. ^ Gervase, Acta Eont., 1G72. 

« Gamier, 70, 11. 

" Fitzstephen, i. 298. Tiie porcli of the liall, built, doubtless on tlie 
plan of the one here mentioned, by Archbishop Langton about fifty 
years later, still in part remains, incorjjorated in one of the modern 
houses now occupying the site of the Fal.ace. There is a similar porch 
in a more complete state, the only fragment of a similar hall, adjoin- 
ing the palace at Norwicii. 



Oi THE KNIGHTS' INTERVIEW WITH liECKET [1170. 

Arclibi.shop. Osbert and Algnr, two of the servants, 
seeing their approach, shut and barred the door of the 
hall, and the knights in vain endeavored to force it 
open.^ But Eobert of Broc, who had known the pal- 
ace during the time of its occupation by his uncle Ilan- 
dolf,^ called out, "Follow me, good sirs, I will sliow 
you another way ! " and got into the orchard behind 
the kitchen. There was a staircase leading thence to 
the antechamber between the hall and the Archbisli- 
op's bedroom. The wooden steps were under repair, 
and the carpenters had gone to their dinner, leaving 
their tools on the stairs.^ Fitzurse seized an axe, and 
the others hatchets ; and thus armed they mounted 
the staircase to the antechamber,^ broke through an 
oriel-window wliich looked out on the garden,^ entered 
the hall from the inside, attacked and wounded the 
servants who were guarding it, and opened the door 
to the assailants.*^ The Archbishop's room was still 
barred and inaccessible. 

Meanwhile Becket, who resumed his calmness as 
soon as the knights had retired, reseated himself on his 
couch, and John of Salisbury again urged moderate 
counsels,'' in words which show that the estimate of 
the Archbishop in his lifetime justifies the impression 
of his vehement and unreasonable temper whieli has 
prevailed in later times, though entirely lost during 
the centuries which elapsed between his death and 
the Eeformation. " It is wonderful, my Lord, that 
you never take any one's advice; it always has been, 

1 Fitzstephen, i. 297. 298. 

2 Fitzstephen, i. 298 ; Roger, 165; Gamier, 70. 

3 Roger, 165; Benedict, 63. 

* Grim, 73; Fitzstephen, i. 298 ; Gamier, 70, 1. 

5 Garniei-, 70, 2. " Benedict, 63. 

T Fitzstephen, i. 298 ; Benedict, 62. 



:;:(!] TIIKIR ASSAULT ON THE TALACE. 95 

and always is your custom, to do and say what seems 
good to yourself alone." " What would you have me 
do, Dan John ? " ^ said Becket. " You ought to have 
taken counsel with your friends, knowing as you do 
that these men only seek occasion to kill you." " I 
am prepared to die," said Becket. "We are sinners," 
said John, " and not yet prepared for death ; and I see 
no one who wishes to die without cause except you."'-^ 
The Archbishop answered, " Let God's will be done." ^ 
" Would to God it might end well ! '"' sighed John, in 
despair.* The dialogue was interrupted by one of the 
monks rushing in to announce that the knights were 
arming. " Let them arm," said Becket. But iii a few 
minutes the violent assault on the door of the hall, 
and the crash of a wooden partition in the passage 
from the orchard, announced that the danger was close 
at hand. The monks, with that extraordinary timidity 
whicli tliey always seem to have displayed, instantly 
tied, leaving only a small body of his intimate friends 
or faithful attendants.^ They united in entreating him 
to take refuge in the cathedral. " No," he said : " fear 
iKit; all monks are cowards."" ()n this some sprang 
upon him, and endeavored to drag him there by main 
force ; others urged that it was now five o'clock, that 
vespers were beginning, and that his duty called him 
to attend the service. Partly forced, partly persuaded 
l)y the argument," partly feeling that his doom called 

1 Roger, 164 ; Gamier, 69, 25. - 
- Gamier, 70, 10. 

3 Roger, 16-4; Benedict, 62; Gamier, 70, 10. 

4 Benedict, 62. ■' (iarnier, 70, 16. 
6 'Roger, 165; Fitzsteplion, i. 298. 

" Fitzstephen, i. 299. lie had dreamed or anticipated that lie yliould 
be killed in church, and had communicated his apprehensions to the 
ahhots of Pontigny and Val-Luisnnt ( Benedict, 65), and, as we have 
seen, to a citizen of Ganterl)urv on the eve of this day. 



96 MIRACLE OF THE J.OCK. [1170. 

him thither, he rose and moved ; but seeing that his 
cross-staff was not as usual borne before him, he 
stopped and called for it.^ He remembered, perhaps, 
the memorable day at the Council of Northampton, 
when he had himself borne the cross ^ through the 
royal hall to the dismay and fury of his opponents. His 
ordinary cross-bearer, Alexander Llewellyn, had, as we 
have seen, left him for France "^ two days before, and 
the cross-staff was therefore borne by one of his clerks, 
Henry of Auxerre.^ They first attempted to pass along 
the usual passage to the cathedral, through the orchard, 
to the western front of the church. But both court 
and orchard being l)y this time thronged with armed 
men;'' they turned through a room which conducted to 
a private door '' that was rarely used, and wliich led 
from the palace to the cloisters of the monastery. One 
of the monks ran before to force it, for the key was lost. 
Suddenly the door flew open as if of itself;' and in the 
confusion of the moment, vvlien none had leisure or 
inclination to ask how so opportune a deliverance oc- 
curred, it was natural for the story to arise which is 
related, with one exception,^ in all the narratives of the 
period, — that the bolt came off as though it had merely 

1 ritz.^iteplien, i. 296; Benedict, 64. ~ Herl>ert, i. 143. 

3 Herbert, i. .330. * Fit/steplien, i, 299. 

5 Koger, 165. '' (ianiier, 71. 

" Grim, 73; Koger, 160 ; Gamier, 17, 9. 

8 Benedict, 64. It is curious tliat a similar miracle was thought to 
have occurred on his leaving the royal castle at Nortliampton. He 
found the gate locked and barred. One of his servants caught sight 
of a buudle of keys hanging aloft, seized it, and with wonderful quick- 
ness (quod quasi miraculum quihusdam r/sH?/i e.s/), picked out the right 
key from the tangled mass, and opened the door. (Roger, 142.) The 
cellarman Richard was the one who had received intimation of the 
danger (as mentioned in page 85), and who would therefore be on 
the watch. See Willis's Conventual Buildings of Christ Church, 
p. 116. 



^.7^4? Nave. 
B/.ady aapcf. 

V.CIwpel ofS^MifJuiel. 

Zdmr. ,-• 

F. PrKh/tcn/. I 

fi- Cfutpel eT S.^AnsfJ/ii -^ i 

hCkapel vfS*' Andrew, \ 

KTrwily Clutpel wiUi the Ciypt umUnifniK I 

{/ High Jhar. j 

2. AUar erS'Airage.. j 

9. AlUtr of S* Diutstan., i 

4 1'ah-mrchaJ. Clair: \ 

.iAfUtrvrS.'Mn Bar'H^Jin-f^^Crypl) \ 
<J.Alttu\of'..ii'.''.AiuimtuieJm,lkc CryptJ \ 

i Dotur (ifi:u CoxsUrs. j 

1 Door' ,oF ikt Caih^dral, j 

'■J. Staircaae. to ifus roof. ] 

4-. Staurate to fhA Otyfit j 

S.Slaxrcate tpOir. Choir. J 

C. Pillar where Hi .Archlnaliop stooab. i 

y.JSffot yvkerr he. feil j 

8. Spot wlure. lAe body lay daring Ui£ ru^ht . 
■y. spot wherf. /A*. boAy -wo* buried' intke Ctypt 



or 
C ANTEimiRY C ATIIEI>RVL , 

AT THE TIME OF BECKETS MURDER 
Chie^lj/ Horn, l/u h^ar/c of Pt-o/issor MU/is. 

( Thf: pffrtiun. of tke Caih^.dra.1 in, lighter tui6 
7.f iJir r^mjeetitral res(vrct,tum, of Jjcuifrrmcs Churck 

The spots cenmcUH wiih the, muniir 
are^ mai-ked i-ed^ 



■ The c%)arse, .of the tArchbishop 
of the. Khxgh^s. 




Cloisters. 



Ceilai^^t 'lodninffS. 



/[ 



AnXbisheps Palnui 




1170] SCENE IN THE CATHEDRAL. 97 

bj3ii fastened on by glue, and left their passage free. 
This one exception is the account by Benedict, then a 
monk of the monastery, and afterwards Abbot of Peter- 
borough ; and his version, compared with that of all 
the other historians, is an nistructive commentary on 
a thousand fables of a similar kind. Two cellarmen, 
he says, of the monastery, Eichard and William, whose 
lodgings were in that part of the building, hearing the 
tumult and clash of arms, tlew to the cloister, drew 
back the bolt from the other side, and opened the door 
to the party from the palace. Benedict knew nothing 
of the seeming miracle, as his brethren were ignorant 
of the timely interference of the cellarmen. But both 
miracle and explanation would at the moment be alike 
disregarded. Every monk in that terrified band had 
but a single thought, — to reach the church with their 
master in safety. The whole march was a struggle be- 
tween the obstinate attempt of the Primate to preserve 
his dignity, and the frantic eagerness of his attendants 
to gain the sanctuary. As they urged him forward, he 
colored and paused, and repeatedly asked them what 
they feared. The instant they had passed through the 
door which led to the cloister, the subordinates tiew to 
bar it behind them, which he as peremptorily forbade.^ 
For a few steps he walked firudy on, with the cross- 
bearer and the monks before him ; halting once and 
looking over his right shoulder, either to see whether 
the gate was locked, or else if his enemies were pur- 
suing. Then the same ecclesiastic wlio had hastened 
forward to break open the door called out, " Seize him, 
and carry him ! " ^ Vehemently he resisted, but in vain. 
Some pulled him from before, others pu.shed from be 
hind.'- Half carried, half drawn, he was borne along 

1 Fitzstepheu, i. 292. - Roger, 16G. ^ Gamier, 71, 27. 

7 



98 SCENE IN THE CATIIEDUAL. [1170. 

the northern and eastern cloister, crying out, " Let me 
go ; do not drag ine !" Thrice tliey were delayed, even 
in that short passage ; i'or tlirice he hroke h)ose from 
them, — twice in the cloister itself, and once in the 
chapter-house, which opened out of its eastern side.^ 
At last they reached the door of the lower north tran- 
sept of the cathedral, and here was presented a new 
scene. 

The vespers had already begun, and the monks were 
singing the service in the choir, when two boys rushed 
up the nave, announcing, more by their terrified ges- 
tures than by their words, that the soldiers were burst- 
ing into the palace and the monastery .^ Instantly the 
service was thrown into the utmost confusion ; part 
remained at prayer, part tied into the numerous hid- 
ing-places which the vast fabric alTords, and part went 
down the steps of the choir intu the transept to meet 
the little l)and at the door.'^ "Come in, come in!" 
exclaimed one of them; "come in, and let us die to- 
gether!" The Archbishop continued to stand outside, 
and said, " Go and finish the service. So long as you 
keep in the entrance, I shall not come in." They fell 
back a few paces, and he stepped within the door; 
but finding the whole ])lace thronged with people, he 
paused on tlie threshold and asked, " Wiiat is it that 
these people fear ? " One general answer broke forth, 
" The armed men in the cloister." As he turned and 
said, " I shall go out to them," he heard the clash of 
arms behind.'* The knights had just forced their way 

1 Roger, 166. It is from this mention of the chapter-house, which 
occupied the same relative position as the present cue, that we ascer- 
tain tlie sides of tlie cloister hy which IJecket came. 

2 Will. Cant., 32. 

3 Fitzsto])1ien, i. 294. 

4 Benedict, 64 , Herbert, .330. 



The East Choir, 



1170.] ENTRANCE OF THE KNIGHTS. 99 

into the cloister, and were now (as would appear from 
their being thus seen through the open dour) advanc- 
ing along its southern side. They were in mail, which 
covered their faces up to their eyes, and carried their 
swords drawn.* With them was Kugh of Horsca, sur- 
named Mauclerc, a subdeacon, cha[)lain of Ilobert de 
Broc.^ Three had hatchets.'^ Fitzurse, with the axe 
he had taken from the carpenters, was foremost, shout- 
ing as lie came, ''Here, here, king's men!" Immedi- 
ately behind him followed Eobert Fitzranulph,* with 
three other knights, wliose names are not preserved ; 
and a motley group — some their own followers, some 
from the town — with weapons, though not in armor, 
brought up the rear.^ At this sight, so unwonted in 
the peaceful cloisters of Canterbury, not probably be- 
held since the time when the monastery had been 
sacked by the Danes, the monks within, regardless of 
all remonstrances, shut the door of the cathedral, and 
proceeded to barricade it with iron bars.*^ A loud 
knockhig was heard from the terrified band without, 
who, having vainly endeavored to prevent the entrance 
of the knights into tlie cloister, now rushed liefore 
them to take refuge in the church.'^ Becket, who had 
stepped some paces into the cathedral, but was resist- 
ing the solicitations of tliose immediately about him 
to move up into the choir for safety, darted back, call- 
ing aloud as he went, " Away, you cowards ! By virtue 
of your obedience I command you not to shut the door ; 
the church must not be turned. into a castle."^ With 

1 Garnier, 71, 10. - Gervase, Acta Pont., 1672. 

3 Garnier, 71, 12. ■* Foss's Jmljies, i. 243. 

5 Fitzstephen, i. .300. 6 Herbert, 331 ; Benedict, 65. 

■^ Anon. Lambeth, 121. Herbert (331) describes the knocking, but 
mistakingly supposes it to be the knights. 
s Garnier, 71, 24. This speech occurs in all. 



100 ENTRANCE OF THE KNIGHTS. [1170. 

his own hands he thrust them away frum tlie door, 
opened it himself, and catching hohl of the exckided 
monks, dragged them into the bviilding, excLaiming, 
" Come in, come in, — faster, faster ! " ^ 

At this moment the ecclesiastics who had hitherto 
clung round Inm Hed in every direction, — some to the 
altars in the numerous side chapels, some to the secret 
chambers with which the walls and roof of the cathe- 
dral are filled. One of them has had the rashness to 
leave on record his ov/n excessive terror.- Even Jolin 
of Salisbury, his tried and faithful counsellor, escaped 
with the rest Three only remained, — Robert, Canon 
of Merton, his old instructor ; William Fitzstephen (if 
we may believe his own account), his lively and 
worldly-minded chaplain ; and Edward Grim, the Saxon 
monk.'^ William, one of the monks of Canterbury, 
who has recorded his impressions of the scene, con- 
fesses that he fled with tlie rest. He was not ready 
to confront martyrdom, and with clasped hands ran as 
fast as lie could up the steps."* Two hiding-places liad 
been specially pointed out to the Archbishop. One 
was the venerable crypt of the churcli, with its many 
dark recesses and chapels, to which a door then as now 
opened immediately from the spot where he stood ; the 
other was the Chapel of St. Blaise in the roof, itself 
communicating by a gallery with the ti-iforium of the 
cathedral, to which there was a ready access through 
a staircase cut in the thickness of the wall at the cor- 
ner of the transept.^ But he positively refused. One 
last resource remained to the stanch companions who 

i Benedict, 65. 

2 William of Canterbury (in the Winchester MS.). 

3 Fitzstephen, i. 301. 

* Will. Cant., published in " Archaologia Cantiana," vi. 42. 
5 Fitzstephen, i. 301. 



!170.] TRANSEPT OF "THE MARTYKDOM." 101 

stood by liiin. They urged him to ascend to tlie choir, 
and hurried him, still resisting, up one of the two liights 
of steps which led thither.^ They no doubt considered 
that the greater sacredness of that portion of the cliurch 
would form their best protection. Becket seems to have 
given way, as in leaving the palace, from the thought 
Hashing across his mind that he would die at his post. 
He w^ould go (such at least was the impression left on 
their minds) to the high altar, and perish in the Patri- 
archal Chair, in which he and all his predecessors from 
time immemorial had been enthroned- But this was 
not to be. 

What has taken long to describe must have been com- 
pressed in action within a few minutes. The knigiits, 
who had been checked for a moment by the sight of 
the closed door, on seeing it unexpectedly thrown open, 
rushed into the church. It was, we must remember, 
about five o'clock in a winter evening;^ the shades of 
night were gathering, and were deepened into a still 
darker gloom within the high and massive walls of 
the vast cathedral, whicli was only illuminated here 
and there by the solitary lamps burning before the 
altars. The twilight,* lengthening from the shortest 
day a fortnight before, was but just sufficient to reveal 
the outline of objects. The transept^ in which the 
knights found themselves is the same as that which, 

1 Roger, 166. 

- Auon. Lambeth, 121 ; Gervase's Chronicle, 1443. 
3 "Nox longissinia instabat." — Fitzstephkn, i. .301. 
* The 29th of Deceinber of that year corresponded (by the change 
of style) to our 4th of January. 
5 Garnier, 74, 11 : — 

" Pur I'iglise del nort e en I'ele del nort. 
En vers le nort suffri li bons saniz Tliomas mort." 
For the ancient arrangements of " the martyrdom," see Willis's Ac- 



102 TEANSEPT OF "THE MARTYRDOM." [1170. 

though with considerable changes in its arrangements, 
is still known by its ancient name of " The Martyrdom." 
Two staircases led from it, — one from the east to the 
northern aisle, one on the west to the entrance of the 
choir. At its southwest corner, where it joined the nave, 
was the little chapel and altar of the Virgin, the especial 
patroness of the Archbishop. Its eastern apse was 
formed by two chapels, raised one above the other ; the 
upper in the roof, containing the relics of Saint Blaise, 
tlie first martyr whose bones had been brought into the 
church and which gave to the chapel a peculiar sanctity ; 
the lower containing^ the altar of St. Benedict, under 
whose rule from the time of Dunstan the monastery had 
been placed. Before and around this altar were the tombs 
of four Saxon and two Norman Archbishops. Jn the 
centre of the transe[)t was a pillar, supporting a galleiy 
leading to the Chapel of St. Blaise,'^ and hung at great 
festivals with curtains and draperies. Such was the 
outward aspect, and such the associations, of the scene 
which now, perhaps, opened for the first time on the four 
soldiers. lUit the darkness, coupled with the eagerness 
to find their victim, would have prevented them from 
noticing anytliitig more than its prominent features. 

count of Cixntorlinry Cathedral, pp. 18, 40, 71. 9G. The chief cliaiiges 
since tliat time are : — 

(1 ) The reitioval of the Lady Chapel in the Nave. 

(2) The removal of the central pillar. 

(3) The enlargement of the Chapel of St. Benedict. 

(4) The removal of the Chapel of St. Blaise. 

(5) The removal of the eastern staircase. 

In the last two points a parallel to the old arrangement may still 
be found in the southern transept. 

1 It may lie mentioned, as an instance of Hume's well-known in- 
accuracy, that he rejiresents Becket as taking refuge "in the church 
of St. Benedict," evidently thinking, if he thought at all, that it was 
a parish church dedicated to that saint. 

^ Garuier, 72-79, 6; Willis's Canterbury Cathedral, p. 47. 



1170.] MEKTING OF KNIGHTS AND AUCIIBISIIOP. lOo 

At the moment of tlieir entrance the central pillar 
exactly intercepted their view of the Archbishop as- 
cending (as would appear from this circumstance) the 
eastern staircase.^ I'itzurse, with his drawn sword 
in one hand, and the carpenter's axe in the other, 
sprang in first, and turned at once to the right of the 
pillar. The other three went round it to the left. In 
the dim twilight they could just discern a group of fig- 
ures mounting the steps.'-^ Une of the knights called 
out to them, "Stay!" Anotlier, "Where is Thomas 
Becket, traitor to the king ? " No answer was returned. 
None could have been expected by any who remem- 
bered the indignant silence with which Becket had 
swept by when tlie same word had been applied by 
liandulf de Broc, at Northampton.^ Fitzurse rushed 
forward, and stumbling against one of the monks on 
the lower step,^ still not able to distinguish clearly in 
the darkness, exclaimed, " Where is the Archbishop ? " 
Instantly the answer came: "Eeginald, here I am, — no 
traitor, but the Archbishop and Priest of God ; what 
do you wish? "-'* and from the fourth step,*^ whieli he 
had reached in his ascent, witli a slight motion of his 
head, — noticed apparently as his peculiar manner in 
moments of excitement," — Becket descended to the 
transept. Attired, we are told, in his white rochet,^ 
with a cloak ami hood thrown over liis shoulders, lie thus 
suddenly confronted his assailants. Fitzurse sprang 
back two or three paces, and Becket passing^ by liim 

1 Gariiier, 72, 10. - Gamier, 72, 11. 

•^ Koger, 142. •* Gamier, 72, 14. . « 

^ Gerva.se, Acta I'ont., ir)72; Gamier, 72, 15. 
'' Gervase, Acta Pont., 1()7.'3. 

"^ As 111 liis interview with the Ahbot of St. Albaii.s at Harrow. See 
p. 74. 

*> Granilisou, e. 9. « Grim, 75; Kotrer, 166. 



104 THE STRUGGLE. [1170 

took up liis station between the central pillar ^ and tlie 
massive wall which still forms the southwest corner of 
what was then the Chapel of St. Pienedict.^ Here they 
gathered round him, with the cry, " Absolve the bishops 
whom you have excommunicated." " I cannot do other 
than I have done," he replied; and turning^ to Fitzurse, 
he added, " Eeginald, you have received many favors at 
my hands ; why do you come into my church armed ? " 
Fitzurse planted the axe against his breast, and returned 
for answer, " You shall die; I will tear out your heart."'* 
Another, perhaps in kindness, striking him between the 
shoulders with the flat of his sword, exclaimed, " Fly ; 
you are a dead man."^ "I am ready to die," replied 
the Primate, " for God and the Church ; but I warn you, 
I curse you in tlie name of Cod Almighty, if you do not 
let my men escape." *" 

The well-known horror which in that age was felt at 
an act of sacrilege, together with the sight of the crowds 
who were' rushing in from the town tlirough the nave, 
turned their efforts for the next few moments to carry 
him out of the church.^ Fitzurse threw down the 
axe,^ and tried to drag him out by the collar of his long 
cloak,^'' calling, " Come with us; you are our prisoner." 
" I will not ily, you detestable fellow !" ^^ was Becket's 
reply, roused to his usual vehemence, and wrenching 

1 Roger, ir)6. 

2 Willis's Canterbury Cathedral, p. 41. It was afterwards preserved 
purposely. 

^ Gamier, 72, 20. 

* Grim, 79; Anon. Passio Quinta, 17G. 
5 Grim, 7.5, 76 ; Roger, 166. 

fi Herbert, 338; Garnier, 72, 25; Fitzstepben, i. 302; Grim, 7G ; 
Roger, 166. " Anon. Lamlj., 122; Fitzstepben, i. 302. 

^ Grim, 76 ; Roger, 166. 

9 Fitzstepben, i. 302 ; Benedii-t, 88. ^' Garnier, 72, 20, 30. 

11 " Vir abominabilis." — Gervase, Ada Pont., 1673. 



i!:o.] THE STRUGGLE. 105 

the cloak out of Fitzurse's grasp.^ The three knights, 
to whom was now added Hugh JMauclerc, chaplam of 
Kobert de Broc,^ struggled violently to put him on 
Tracy's shoulders.^ Becket set his back against the 
pillar,* and resisted with all his might; whilst Grim,^ 
vehemently remonstrating, threw his arms around him 
to aid his efforts. In the scuttle Becket fastened upon. 
Tracy, shook him by his coat of mail, and exerting his 
great strength, Hung him down on the pavement.'' It 
was hopeless to carry on the attempt to remove him; 
and in the final struggle which now began, Fitzurse, 
as before, took the lead. But as he approached with 
his drawn sword, the sight of him kindled afresh the 
Archbishop's anger, now heated by the fray ; the spirit 
of the chancellor rose within him, and with a coarse'' 
epitliet, not calculated to turn away his adversary's 
wrath, he exclaimed, " You protligate wretch, you are 
my man, — you have done me fealty, — you ought not 
to touch me ! " "^ Fitzurse, glowing all over with rage, 



' Gamier, 73, 21. 

■- Roger, IGO; Gamier, 71. 

3 Roj;er, 1G6. 

^ Garnier, 72, 7.3, .5 ; Grim, 75. 

^ Fitzstepheu, i. 302 ; Gamier, 73, G. 

« Benedict, 66; Roger, 166; Gervase, Acta Pont., 1173; IlerLert, 
.331 ; Garnier, 72, 30. All but Herbert and Gamier believe tlii.s to 
liave been Fitzurse ; but tiie reference of Herbert to Tracy's confession 
is decisive. 

" "Lenonein appellans."— Roger, 167 ; Grim, 66. It is tbis jjart 
of tlie narrative that was so ingeniously, and, it must be confessed, not 
altogether without justice, selected as the ground of tlie official account 
of Becket's death, published by King Henry VIII., and representing 
liim as having fallen in a scuffle witli the kniglits, in whicli lie and they 
were equally aggressors. The violence of I'lcckcl's Innguagf wns well 
known. His usual name for Geoffrey Ridildl, Anhthdciii of Canter- 
bury, was Arclidevil. Anselm, the king's brother, he called a " cata- 
mite and bastard." 

» Grim, 66 



106 THE MURDER. [1170. 

retorted, " I owe you no fealty or homage, contrary to 
my fealty to the king ; " ^ and waving the sword over 
his head cried, " Strike, strike ! " (Ferez, fercz !) but 
merely dashed off his cap. The Archbishop covered 
his eyes with his joined hands, bent his neck, and said,^ 
" I commend my cause and the cause of the Church to 
God, to Saint Denys the martyr of France, to Saint 
Alfege, and to the saints of the Church." Meanwhile 
Tra.cy, who since his fall had thrown off his hauberk ^ 
to move more easily, sprang forward, and struck a more 
decided blow. Grim, who up to this moment had his 
arm round Becket, threw it up, wrapped in a cloak, to 
intercept the blade, I'ecket exclaiming, " Spare this de- 
fence!" The sword lighted on the arm of the monk, 
which fell wounded or broken ;* and he fled disabled to 
tlie nearest altar,^ probably that of St. Benedict within 
the chapel. It is a proof of the confusion of the scene, 
that Grim, the receiver of the blow, as well as most of the 

1 Grim, 6G ; Roger, 1G7; Garnier, 73, 11. 

- Garnier, 73, 25. Tliese are in several of the accounts made his 
last words (Roger, 167 ; Alan, 336, and Addit. to John of Salisbury, 
376) ; but this is doubtless the moment wlien they were spoken. 

3 Garnier, 73, 1. 

* Garnier, 73, 18. Tlie words in wliich tliis act is doscrilicd in 
almost all the chronicles have given rise to a curious mistake: " Bra- 
chiuin Edwardi Grim fere abscidit." By running together these two 
words, later writers have produced the name of " Grimfere." Many 
similar confusions will occur to classical s(diolars. In most of the 
mediaeval pictures of the murder, (irim is represented as tiie cross- 
bearer, which is an error. Grandison alone speaks of (irim " nnn 
crnce." The acting crossdiearer, Henry of Auxerre, had doubtless 
fled. Another error respecting Grim has been propagated in nuu h 
later times by Thierry, who, for the sake of supporting his theory 
tiiat IJecket's cause was that of the Saxons against the Normans, 
represents him as remonstrating against the Primate's acquiescence in 
the Constitutions of Clarendon. The real cross i)earer, who so remon- 
strated (Alan of Tewkesbury, i. 340), was uot a Saxon, but a Welsh- 
man (see Robertson, 335). 

5 Will. Cant., 32. 



11701 THE MURDER. 107 

narrators, believed it to have been dealt by Fitzurse, 
while Tracy, who is known to have been ^ the man from 
his subsequent boast, believed that the monk whom he 
had wounded was John of Salisbury. The spent force of 
the stroke descended on Becket's head, grazed the crown, 
and finally rested on his left shoulder,'-^ cutting through 
the clothes and skin. The next blow, whether struck 
by Tracy or Fitzurse, was only with the flat of the 
sword, and again on the bleeding head,^ which liecket 
drew back as if stunned, and then raised his clasped 
hands above it. The blood from the first blow was 
trickling down his face in a thin streak ; he wiped it 
with his arm, and when he saw the stain, he said, " Into 
thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit." At the 
third blow, which was also from Tracy, he sank on his 
knees, — his aims falling, but his hands still joined as 
if in prayer. With his face turned towards the altar 
of St. Pjenedict, he murmured in a low voice, — which 
might just have been caught by the wounded Grim,'^ 
w^ho was crouching close by, and who alone reports the 
words, — " For the name of Jesus, and the defence of 
the Church, I am willing to die." Without moving 
hand or foot,'"^ he fell flat on his face as he spoke, in 
front of tlie corner wall of the chapel, and with such 
dignity that his mantle, wdiich extended from head to 
foot, was not disarranged. In this ])osture he received 
from Eichard the Breton a tremendous blow, accom- 
panied with the exclamation (in allusion to a quarrel 
of Becket with Prince William), " Take this for love of 
my Lord William, brother of the king ! " ^ The stroke 

1 Will. Cant , .3.3; Fitzstcphen, i. 302; Gamier, 73, 17. 

2 Gamier 73, S. 3 ^yjn. Cant., .32 ; Grim, 66. 
* Grim, 66. ^ Gervase's Chronicle, 2466. 
6 Fitzstephci), i. 303 



108 THE MURDER, [1170. 

was aimed with such violence that the scalp or crown 
of the head ^ — which, it was remarked, was of unusual 
size — was severed from the skull, and the sword 
snapped in two on tlie marble pavement."^ The fracture 
of the murderous weapon was reported by one of the 
eyewitnesses as a presage of the ultimate discomfiture 
of the Archbishop's enemies.^ Hugh of Horsea, the 

1 (iiiin, 77; Roger, 1G7 ; Passio Qniiita, 177. Creat stress was 
laid oil this, as liaviug been the part of his liead which had received 
the sacred oil. (Johu of Salisbury, 370.) There was a dream, by 
which he was said to have been troulded at Pontigny, — curious, as iu 
some respects so singularly unlike, in others so singularly like, liis 
actual fate. He was at Rome, pleailiiig his cause before the Pope and 
cardinals ; the adverse cardinals ruslied at him with a shout that 
drowned the remonstrances of the Pope, and tried to pluck out his eyes 
Avith their fingers, then vanished, and were succeeded by a band of 
savage men, who struck off his scalp, so that it fell over his forehead. 
(Grim, 58.) 

2 Benedict, CG. For the pavement being marble, see Benedict, GG, 
and Garnier, 79, 19. Baronius (vol. xix. p. 379) calls it"lapideum 
pavimentum." A spot is still showu in Canterbury Cathedral, with a 
square piece of stone said to have been inserted in the stone ])avement 
in the place of a portion taken out and sent to Rome. That the spot 
so marked is precisely the place where Bccket fell, is proved by its 
exact accordance with the localities so minutely described in the several 
narratives. But whether the flagstones now remaining are really the 
same, must remain in doubt. The piece said to have been sent to 
Rome, I ascertained, after diligent inquiry, to be no longer in existence; 
and Mr. Robertson has clearly pointed out that the passage quoted, in 
earlier editions of this work, from Baronius (vol. xix. p. 371) iu proof 
of the stoiy, has no bearing upon it ; and also that the tradition re- 
specting it at Canterbury cannot be traced beyond the beginning of 
this century. Another story states that Benedict, wlien appointed 
Abbot of Peterborough in 1177, being vexed at finding that his pre- 
decessor had pawned or sold the relics of the abbey, returned to Can- 
terbury, and carried off, amongst other memorials of Saint Thomas, 
the stones of the pavement which liad been sprinkled with liis blood, 
and had two altars made from them for Peterborough Cathedral. Still, 
as the whole floor must have been flooded, he may have removed onl}' 
those adjacent to the flagstone from which the piece was taken, — a sup- 
position with which the present apjicarance of the flagstone remark- 
ably corresponds. 

3 Will. Cant. (Arch. Cant., vi. 42). 



The Transept of the Martyrdom. 



1170] THE MUKDEK. 109 

subdeacon who had joined them as they entered the 
cliurch/ taunted by the others with having taken no 
share in the deed, planted his foot on the neck of tlie 
corpse, thrust his sword into the ghastly wound, and 
scattered the brains over the pavement. " Let us go, 
let us go," he said, in conclusion. " The traitor is dead ; 
he will rise no more." ^ 

This was the final act. One only of the four knights 
had struck no blow. Hugh de jMoreville throughout 
retained the gentler disposition for which he was dis- 
tinguished, and contented himself with holding l)ack 
at the entrance of the transept the crowds who were 
pouring in through the nave.'^ 

The murderers rushed out of the church, through 
the cloisters, into the ])alace Tracy, in a confession 
made long afterwards to Bartholomew, Bishop of Exeter 
said that their spirits, which had before been raised to 
the highest pitch of excitement, gave way when the 
deed was perpetrated, and that they retired with trem- 
bling steps, expecting the earth to open and swallow 
them up.^ Such, however, was not their outward de- 
meanor, as it was recollected by the monks of the place. 
With a savage burst of triumph they ran, shouting, as 
if in battle, the watchword of the kings of England,^ 
" The king's men, the king's men 1 " wounding, as 
they went, a servant of the Archdeacon of Sens for 
lamenting the murdered prelate.*^ Eobert de Lroc, as 

1 Benedict (GO) ascribes tliis to Brito ; the anonymous Passio 
Qiiinta (177) to Fitzurse ; Herbert (.34.')) and Grandison (iv. 1) to 
Kobert de Broc ; the rest to Mauclerc. 

- Fitzstephen, i. .30.3 ; lloger, 268 ; Benedict, 67 ; Gamier, 74, 2.^,. 

3 Roger, 108; Grim, 77; Garniei-, 74, 11. 

* Herbert, 351 ; Grandison, c. 9. 

* Garnier, 74, 1 ; Grim, 79 ; b'oger, 168 ; Fitzstephen, i. 30.5. 

^ Fitzstephen, i 305. See iiucange in voce ; Robertson, p. 282. 



110 PLUNDER OF THE PALACE. |1170. 

knowing the palace, had gone before to take possession 
of tlie private apartments. There tliey broke open the 
bags and coffers, and seized many papal bulls, charters,^ 
and other documents, which Kandulf de Ih^oc sent 
to the king. Tliey then traversed the whole of the 
palace, plundering gold and silver vases,^ the magnifi- 
cent vestments and utensils employed in the services 
of the church, the furniture and books of the chap- 
lains' rooms, and, lastly, the horses from the stables, on 
which Becket had prided himself to the last, and on 
which they rode otiV^ The amount of phuider was esti- 
mated by Fitzstephen at two thousand marks. To their 
great surprise they found two haircloths among the ef- 
fects of the Archbishop, and threw them away. As the 
murderers left the cathedral, a tremendous storm of 
thunder and rain burst over Canterbury, and the night 
fell in thick darkness ^ upon the scene of the dreadful 
deed. 

The crowd was every instiint increased by the multi- 
tudes flocking in from the town on the tidings of the 
event. There was still at that moment, as in his life- 
time, a strong division of feeling ; and Grim overheard 
even one of the monks declare tliat the Primate had 
paid a just penalty for his obstinacy,^ and was not to 
be lamented as a martyr. Otliers said, " He wished 
to be king, and more than king ; let him be king, let 
him be king ! " ^ "Whatever horror was expressed, was 
felt (as in the life-long remorse of Eobert Bruce for 
the slaughter of the Eed Comyn in the church of Dum- 
fries) not at the murder, but at the sacrilege. 

At last, however, the cathedral was cleared, and the 

1 Gamier, 74, 5. 2 Fitzstephen, i. .30.5. 

3 Herbert, 3.52. * Fitz.stephen, i. 304. 

5 Grim, 79, 80. 6 Benedict, 67. 



1170.] THE I)i:ad p.ody. Ill 

gates shut ; ^ and for a time the hody lay entirely 
deserted. It was not till the ni^i^ht had quite closed 
in, that Osbert, the chamberlain'-^ of the Archbishop, 
entering with a light, found the corpse lying on its 
face,^ the scalp hanging by a piece of skin : he cut off 
a piece of his shirt to bind up the frightful gash. The 
doors of the cathedral were again opened, and the 
monks returned to the spot. Then, for the first time, 
they ventured to give way to their grief, and a loud 
lamentation resounded through the stillness of the 
night. When they turned the body with its face 
upwards, all were struck by the calmness and beauty 
of the countenance: a. smile still seemed to play on 
the features, the color on the cheeks was fresh, and 
the eyes were closed as if in sleep.* The top of the 
head, wound round with Osbert's shirt, was bathed in 
blood, but the face was marked only by one faint streak 
that crossed the nose from the right temple to the left 
clieek.^ Underneath the body they found the axe 
which Fitzurse had thrown down, and a small iron 
hammer, brought apparently to force open the door ; 
close by were lying the two fragments of Le llret's 
broken sword, and the Archbishop's caj), which had 
been struck off in tlie beginning of the fray. All these 
they carefully preserved. The blood, which with the 
brains was scattered ov^er the pavement, they collected 
and placed in vessels ; and as the enthusiasm of the 
hour increased, the bystanders, who already began to 

1 Eoger, 1G9. '- Fitzstejilicii, i. .305. 

^ Graiulison, iv. 1. 

* Will. Cant., 33. The same appearances are descril)eil on the 
subsequent morning, in Herliert, 358; (irandison, e. 9. 

^. Benedict, 68 ; or (as Robert of Gloucester states it), "from tlie 
left half of his forehead to the left half of his chin." ]>y this mark 
the subsequent apparitions of Becket were often recognized. 



112 DI8COVKRY OF THE HAIRCLOTH [1170. 

esteem him a luartyr, cut olf jiieces of their clothes 
to dip ill the bhiod, and anointed their eyes with it. 
The cloak and outer pelisse, which were ricli with san- 
guinary stains, were given to the poor, — a proof of the 
imperfect apprehension as yet entertained of the value 
of these relics, which a few years afterwards would 
have been literally worth their weight in gold, and 
, which were now sold for some trilling suin.^ 
A After tying up the head with clean linen, and fasten- 
ing the cap over it, they placed the body on a bier, and 
carried it up the successive flights of steps which led 
from the transept through the choir — " the glorious 
choir," as it was called, " of Conrad " — to the high 
altar in front of which they laid it down. The night 
was now far advanced, but the choir was usually 
lighted — and probably, therefore, on this great occa- 
sion — by a chandelier with twenty-four wax tapers. 
Vessels were placed underneath the body to catch any 
drops of blood that might fall,^ and the monks sat 
around weeping.^ The aged Eobert, Canon of Merton, 
the earliest friend and instructor of Becket, and one of 
the three who had remained with him to the last, con- 
soled them by a narration of the austere life of the 
martyred prelate, which hitherto had been known only 
to himself, as the confessor of the Primate, and to 
Brun the valet.* In proof of it he thrust his hand 
under the garments, and showed the monk's habit and 
haircloth shirt, which he wore next to his skin. This 
was the one thing wanted to raise the enthusiasm, of 
the bystanders to the highest pitch. Up to that mo- 
ment there had been a jealousy of the elevation of the 
gay chancellor to the archbishopric of Canterbury./ 

1 Benedict, 68. "- Beuedict, 69. 

=* Roger, 168. '' Fitzsteplieu, i. 308. 



St. Augustine's Gateway. 



1170] DISCO VEKY OF THE IIAIKCLOTH. 113 

The primacy involved the abbacy of the cathedral mon- 
astery ; and the primates therefore had been, with two 
exceptions, always chosen from some monastic society. 
The fate of these two had, we are told, weighed heavily 
on Becket's mind. One was Stigand, the last Saxon 
Archbishop, who ended his life in a dungeon, after the 
Conquest; the other was Elsey, who had been appointed 
in opposition to Dunstan, and who after having tri- 
umphed over his predecessor Odo by dancing on his 
grave was overtaken by a violent snow storm in pass- 
ing the Alps, and in spite of the attempts to resuscitate 
liim by plunging his feet in the bowels of his horse, 
was miserably frozen to death. Becket himself, it was 
believed, had immediately after his consecration re- 
ceived, from a mysterious^ apparition, an awful warn- 
ing against appearing in the choir of tlie cathedral 
in his secular dress as chancellor. It now for the first 
time appeared that, though not formerly a monk, he 
had virtually become one by his secret austerities. 
The transport of the fraternity, on finding that he had 
been one of themselves, was beyond all bounds. They 
burst at once into thanksgivings, which resounded 
through the choir ; fell on their knees ; kissed the 
hands and feet of the corpse, and called him by the 
name of " Saint Thomas,' ^ by which, from that time 
forward, lie was so long known to the European world. 
At the sound of the shout of joy there was a general 
rush to the choir, to see the saint in sackcloth who had 
hitherto been known as the chancellor in purple and 
fine linen.'^ A new enthusiasm was kindled by the 

1 Grim, 16. Another version, current after his death, represented 
him as having secretly assnmed the monastic dress on the day of his 
consecration. (Ant. Cant., vii. 213.) 

2 Fitzstephen, i. 308. 

3 Ibid.; Gervase's Chronicle, 1416. 

8 



114 THE ivUUORA BOKEALIS. [1170. 

spectacle. Arnold, a monk, who was goldsmith to the 
monastery, was sent back, with others, to the transept 
to collect in a basin any vestiges of the blood and 
brains, now become so precious ; and benches were 
placed across the spot, to prevent its being desecrated 
by the footsteps of the crowd. ^ This perhaps was the 
moment when the great ardor of the citizens first began 
for washing their hands and eyes with tlie blood. One 
instance of its application gave rise to a practice which 
became the distinguishing characteristic of all the sub- 
sequent pilgrimages to the shrine. A citizen of Canter- 
bury dipped a corner of his shirt in the blood, went 
home, and gave it, mixed in water, to his wife, who was 
paralytic, and who was said to have been cured. This 
suggested the notion of mixing the blood with water, 
which, endlessly diluted, was kept in innumerable vials, 
to be distributed to the pilgrims ; ^ and thus, as the 
palm ■" was a sign of a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and a 
scallop-shell of the pilgrimage to Cumpostela, so a 
leaden vial or bottle suspended from the neck became 
the mark of a pilgrimage to Canterbury. 

[Dec. 30.] 'I'lius passed the night ; and it is not 
surprising that in the red glare of an aurora borealis,* 
which after the stormy evening lighted up the mid- 
night sky, the excited jjopulace, like that at liome 
after the murder of iJossi, should fancy that they saw 
the blood of the martyr go up to heaven ; or that, as 
the wax lights sank down in the cathedral, and the 
first streaks of the gray winter morning broke through 
the stained windows of Conrad's choir, the monks who 
sat round the corpse should imagine that the right arn> 

1 Fitzstcplicn, i. 308. ~ Iliid., 309. 

3 Gamier, 78, 16; Aiiun. Liiiiiljetli, ]). 134. 
* Fitzsteplien, i. 304. 



!!70I UNAVRArriNC; OF THE COHl'SK. 115 

of the (lead man was slowly raised in the sign uf the 
cross, as if to bless his faithful followers.^ 
~7^ Early in the next day a rumor or message came to 
the monks that lloljert de r>r(jc forI)ade them to bury 
the body among the tumbs of the Archljishops, and that 
lie threatened to drag it out, hang it on a gibbet, tear 
it with horses, cut it to pieces,^ or throw it in some 
pond or sink to be devoured by swine or birds of prey, 
as a fit portion for the corpse of his master's enemy. 
" Had Saint Peter so dealt with the king," lie said, "by 
the body of Saint JJenys, if I had been there, I would 
have driven my sword into his skull." ^ They accord- 
ingly closed'* the doors, which apparently had remained 
open through the night to admit the populace, and 
detLsrmined to l)ury the corpse in the crypt. Thitlier 
they carried it, and in tliat venerable vault proceeded 
to their mournful task, assisted by the Abbot of Box- 
ley and the Prior of Dover,^ who had come to advise 
with the Archbishop about the vacancy of the Priory 
at Canterbury.*^ A discussion seems to have taken 
place whether the body should be waslied, according 
to the usual custom, which ended in their removing 
the clothes for the purpose. The mass of garments in 
which he was wrapped is almost incredible, and appears 
to have been worn chiefly for the sake of warmth and 
in consequence of his naturally chilly temperament.^ 

1 Anon. Passio Tertia, 156; Ilovedcn, 299. 

2 Fitzstephen, i. 309 ; Anon. Liimbetli, p. i;}4 ; Benedict, 69 ; Eoger, 
168; Herbert, .'527 ; Grim, 81 ; Garnier, 76, 1. 

3 Uarnier, 76, 7. 

* Gervase's Glironicle, 1417. 

^ The Prior of Dover was no less a person than Picliard, the Aroli- 
bishop's chaplain, and his successor in the primacy. (Matt. I'aris, 127 ; 
Vit. Abb. St. A., 16, 91.) 

•> Fitzstcphen, i. 309. ' Gamier, 77, 1. 



116 DISCUVKUY OF THE VEUMIN. [1170. 

First, there was tlie large brown mantle, with white 
fringes of wool ; below this there was a white surplice, 
and again below this a white fur garment of lamb's 
wool. Next these, were two short woollen pelisses, 
which w^ere cut off with kni\es and given away ; and 
under these the black cowled garment of the Benedic- 
tine order 1 and the shirt ^ without sleeves or fringe, that 
it might not be visible on the outside. The lowermost 
covering was the haircloth, which had been made of 
unusual roughness, and within the haircloth was a 
warning letter^ he had received on the night of the 
27th. The existence of the austere garb had been 
pointed out on the previous night by Eobert of Merton ; 
but as they proceeded in their task their admiration in- 
creased. The hairclotli encased the whole body, down 
to the knees ; the hair drawers,* as well as the rest of 
the dress, being covered on the outside with white linen 
so as to escape observation ; and the whole so fastened 
together as to admit of being readily taken off for his 
daily scourgings, of which yesterday's portion was still 
apparent in the stripes on his body.^ The austerity of 
hair drawers, close fitted as they were to the bare flesh, 
had hitherto been unknown to English saints ; and the 
marvel was increased by the sight ^ — to our notions 
so revolting — of the innumerable vermin with which 
the haircloth abounded ; boiling over with them, as 
one account describes it, like water *" in a simmering 
caldron. At the dreadful sight all the enthusiasm of 

1 Jlatt. Paris, 104. 

2 Gamier, 77; Herbert, 3.50. 

3 Fitzstephen, i. 203; Koger, 169; Benedict, 20. 

4 Gamier, 77, 40. 

* Anon. Passio Tertia, 156. 

c Koger, 169 ; Fitzstephen, i. 309. 

■^ Passio Quinta, 161. 



nro] BURIAL IN THE CRYPT. 117 

the previous night revived with double ardor. They 
looked at one another in silent wonder ; then exclaimed, 
"See, see what a true monk he was, and we knew it 
not ; " and burst into alternate tits of weeping and 
laughter, between the sorrow of having lost such a head 
and the joy of having found such a saint. /V The dis- 
covery of so much mortification, combined with the more 
prudential reasons for hastening the funeral, induced 
them to abandon the thought of washing a corpse al- 
ready, as it was thought, sufficiently sanctified, and they 
at once proceeded to lay it out for burial. 

Over the haircloth, linen shirt, monk's cowl, and 
linen hose,^ they put first the dress in which he was 
consecrated, and which he had himself desired to be 
preserved,'^ — namely, the alb, super-humeral, chris- 
matic, mitre, stole, and numiple ; and over these, accord- 
ing to the usual custom in archiepiscopal funerals, the 
Archbishop's insignia, — namely, the tunic, dalmatic, 
chasuble, the pall witli its pins, the chalice, the gloves, 
the rings, the sandals, and the pastoral staff,* — all of 
which, being probably kept in the treasury of tlie cathe- 
dral, were accessible at the moment. The ring which 
he actually wore at the time of his death, wath a green 
ge^n ^ set in it, was taken off. Thus arrayed, he was 
laid l)y the monks in a new marl )le sarcophagus'^ which 
stood in the ancient crypt,'^ at the back of the shrine 
of the Virgin, between the altars of St. Augustine and 



1 Roger, 169 ; Gamier, 77, -30. 

2 Fitzstephen; Benedict, 70 ; Matt. Tiiris, 124. 

3 Fitzstephen, i. .309. * Ibid. 

^ This, with a kuife and various portions of the dress, were jjre- 
served in the treasury of Glastonbury. (John of Glastonbury, ed. 
Hearn, p. 28.) 

6 Grim, 82 ; Benedict, 70 ; Gervase's Chronicle, 1417. 

' Benedict, 70; Diceto (Addit. ad Alau.), 377 ; Matt. Paris, 124. 



118 RE-CONSECRATION OF THE CATIIEDRxVL. [1171. 

St. John the Baptist/ — the first Archbisliop, as it 
was observed, and the bold opponent of a wicked king. 
The remains of the blood and brains were placed out- 
side the tomb, and the doors of the crypt closed against 
all entrance.^ No Mass was said over the Archbisli- 
op's grave ; ^ for from the moment that armed men had 
entered, the church was supposed to have been dese- 
crated ; the pavement of the cathedral ^ was taken up ; 
the bells ceased to ring ; the walls were divested of 
their hangings ; the crucifixes were veiled ; the altars 
stripped, as in Passion Week ; and the services were 
conducted without chanting ° in the chapter-house. 
This desolation continued till the next year, when Odo 
the Prior, with the monks, took advantage of the arrival 
of the Papal legates, who came to make full inquiry 
into the murder, and requested their influence with the 
bishops to procure a rc-consecration. The task was 
intrusted^ to the Bisliops of Exeter and Chester; and 
on the 21st of December, the Feast of Saint Thomas 
the Apostle, 1171 (the day of Saint Thomas of Cantei;- 
bury was not yet authorized), Bartholomew, Bishop of 
Exeter, again celebrated Mass, and preached a sermon on 
the text, " For the multitude of tlie sorrows that I liad 
in my heart, thy comforts have refreshed my souL" ^ 

1 Fitzstephcn, i. .309 ; (irandison, c. 9 ; Gervase, Acta Pont., 1673 
(Gervase was present) ; Alan. 339 ; Matt. Paris, 125 ; Gamier, 75. The 
arrangements of this part of the crypt were altered within the next fifty 
years ; but the spot is still ascertainable, behind the " Chapel of Our 
Lady Undercroft," and underneath what is now the Trinity Chapel. 

2 Gervase's Chronicle, 1417. 

3 Fitzstephen, i. 310 ; Matt. Paris, 125 ; Diccto, .338. 

* Diceto (558) speaks of the dirt of the pavement from the crowd 
who trod it with dusty and muddy feet. Matt. Paris, 126. 

^ Gervase's Chronicle, 1417. 

^ Gervase, 1421. Chester then was the seat of tlie See of Lichfield. 

■^ Matt. Paris, 125. Bartholomew's tomb may be seen in the Lady 
Chapel of E.xeter Cathedral. 



1173] CANONIZATION. 119 

Within three years the popular enthusiasm was con- 
firmed by the highest authority of the Church. The 
Archbishop of York had, some time after the murder, 
ventured to declare that Becket had perished, like Pha- 
raoh, in his pride, and the Government had endeavored 
to suppress the miracles. But the Papal Court, vacil- 
lating, and often unfriendly in his lifetime, now lent 
itself to confer the highest honors on his martyrdom ^ 
On the very day of the murder, some of the Canter- 
bury monks had embarked to convey their own version 
of it to the Pope.^ In 1172 legates were sent by Alex- 
ander III. to investigate the alleged miracles, and they 
carried back to Rome tlie tunic stained with blood, and 
a piece of the pavement on which the brains were 
scattered, — relics which were religiously deposited in 
the Basilica of Sta. jMaria JMaggiore.^ In 1173 a 
Council was called at Westminster to hear letters read 
from the Pope, authorizing the invocation of the martyr 
as a saint. All the bishops who had opposed him were 
present, and after begging pardon for their offence, ex- 
pressed their acquiescence in the decision of the Pope. 
In the course of the same year, on Ash Wednesday, 
the 21st of February,* he was regularly canonized, and 
the 29th of December was set apart as the Feast of 
Saint Thomas of Canterbury. His sister Mary was ap- 
pointed Abbess of Barking.'"^ 

1 i\Iilm.an's Latin C'lnistiaiiify, iii. .'j.'ji. 

2 Ant. Caut., vii. 21 G. 

3 Baroiiius, xix. .3'.)6. A fraiiment of the tunic, and small lilne 
bags said to contain purtiuus of the brain, are still shown in the reli- 
quary of this church. 

* Florence of Worcester, I'l.'!. 

5 Matt. Paris, 12G. At this conncil took [dace, between Roger of 
York and Richard of t'antcrliury, ilie scene already mentioned (]). 
72). Roger nearly lost his life under the sticks and fists of the op])o- 
site party, who shouted out, as he rose from the ground with crushed 



120 ESCAPE OF THE MURDERERS. [1170. 

A wooden altar, wliicli remained unchanged through 
the subsequent alterations and increased magnificence 
of the cathedral, was erected on the site of the murder, 
in front of the ancient stone wall of St. Benedict's 
Chapel. It was this which gave rise to the mistaken 
tradition, repeated in books, in pictures, and in sculp- 
tures, that the Primate was slain whilst praying at the 
altar.i The crypt in which the body had been lain so 
hastily and secretly became the most sacred spot in the 
church, and, even after the " translation " of the relics 
in 1220, continued to be known down to the time of 
the Eeformation as '• Becket's Tomb." '•^ The subse- 
quent history of those sacred spots must be reserved 
for a separate consideration. 

It remains for us now to follow the fate of the mur- 
derers. [1170. Dec. 30.] On the night of the deed 
the four knights rode to Saltwood, leaving Robert de 
Broc in possession of the palace, whence, as we have 
seen, he brought or sent the threatening message to 
the monks on the morning of the 30tli. They vaunted 
their deeds to each other, and it was then that Tracy 
claimed the glory of having wounded John of Salis- 
bury. [Dec. 31.] The next day they rode forty 
miles by the sea-coast to South-Mailing, an archiepis- 
copal manor near Lewes. On entering the house, they 

mitre and torn cope, " Away, away, traitor of Saint Thomas ! tliy liands 
still reek with his blood!" (Angiia Sacra, i. 72 ; Gervase, 1433). 

1 The gradual growth of the story is curious. (1) The post- 
humous altar of the martyrdom is represented as standing there at 
the time of his death. (2) This altar is next confounded with the 
altar within the Chapel of St. Benedict. (:]) This altar is a^ain trans- 
formed into the High Altar; and (4) In these successive changes the 
furious altercation is converted into an assault on a meek, unprepared 
worshipper, kneeling before the altar. 

■^ See Gough's Sepulchral Monuments, i. 26. 



The Crypi- 



1171.] LEGEND OF THEIR DEATHS. 121 

threw off tlieir arms and trappings on tlie large dining- 
table which stood in the hall, and after supper gathered 
round the blazing hearth ; suddenly the table started 
back, and threw its burden on the ground. The attend- 
ants, roused by the crash, rushed in with liglits and 
replaced the arms. But soon a second still louder 
crash was heard, and the various articles were thrown 
still farther off. Soldiers and servants with torches 
searched in vain under the solid table to find the cause 
of its convulsions, till one of the conscience-stricken 
knights suggested that it was indignantly refusing to 
bear the sacrilegious burden of their arms. So ran the 
popular story ; and as late as the fourteenth century it 
was still shown in the .same place, — the earliest and 
most memorable instance of a " rapping," " leaping," 
and " turning table." ^ From South-Mailing they pro- 
ceeded to Knaresborough Castle, a royal fortress then 
in the possession of Hugh de Moreville, where they 
remained for a year.^ The local tradition still points 
out the hall where they Hed for refuge, and the vaulted 
prison where they were confined after tlieir capture. 

From this moment they disappear for a time in the 
black cloud of legend with which the monastic histori- 
ans have enveloped their memory. Dogs, it was said, 
refused to eat the crumbs that fell from their table.-'^ 
One of them in a fit of madness killed his own son.* 
Sent by tlie king to Scotland, they were driven back 
by the Scottish Court to England, and but for the ter- 
ror of Henry's name, would have been hanged on 

^ Grandisou, iv. 1. " Mon.stratur ihidem ipsa tabula in inemoriam 
miraculi couservata." See also Giraklus, iu Whartou's Aiiglia Sa- 
cra, 42.'). 

- Brompton, 10fi4; Diceto, 557. 

^ Brompton, 1064; novedcii, 299. 

< I'assiu Tertia; Giles, ii. i:,:. 



122 LEGEND OF THEIR DExVTIiS. [1171. 

gibbets.^ Struck with remorse, they went to Ilome to 
receive the' sentence of Tope Alexander III., and by 
liiin were sent to expiate their sins by a niiUtary ser- 
vice of fourteen years ^ in the Holy Land. JMoreville, 
Fitzurse, and Brito, — so the story continues, — after 
three years' fighting, died, and were buried, according 
to some accounts, in front of the Church of the Holy 
Sepulchre, or of the Templars, at Jerusalem ; according 
to others, in front of tlie " Church of the lUack Moun- 
tain," ^ with an inscription on tlieir graves, — 



Ilk- jat'Oiit niis^n 


i qui mm 


tyrisavcrunt 


Ik'jituiii ThoiiKii 


1 Archie] 


i.sL'ojjiini Ciuitii.i 



Tracy alone, it was said, was never able to accom- 
plish his vow. The crime of liaving struck the first 
Itlow'* was avenged by the winds of lieaven, which al- 
ways drove him back. Accmding to one stdiy, he 
never left England. According to another, and, as we 
shall see, more correct version, he reached tiie coast of 
Calabria, and was then seized at Cosenza with a dread- 
ful disorder, which caused him to tear his flesh from 
his bones with his own hands, calling, " Mercy, Saint 
Thomas!" and there he died miseraljly, after having 
made his confession to the bishop of the place. His 

1 Ant. Cant, vii. 218. 

2 Il,i,l., 219. 

3 Baroiiius, xix. .390. The ]e5rpn<l hardly aims at prohahilities. 
Tlie "Church of tlie Black Mountain" may po.'i.sihly ho a mountain 
so called in Languedoe, near the Aliliey of St. Pnpoul. The front of 
the Chni'ch of the Holy Sepulchre is, and always must iiave been, a 
square of public resort to all the pilgrims of tlie world, where no tomlis 
either of murderer or saint could have ever hecn placed. The Cinircli 
of the Templars was " tlie Mosque of tlie Rock," and the front was the 
sacred platform of the sanctuai-y, — a less impossilde place, hut still 
very improbable. Kothincj of the kind now exi.sts on eithe s])ot. 

* "Primus percussor" — Rahonhs, xix. 399. See Robert of 
Gloucester, 1301-1321 ; Fuller's Worthies, 3.'j7. 



1171.J LEGEND OF THEIR DEATHS. 123 

fate was long remembered among his descendants in 
Gloucestershire, and gave rise to the distich that — 

" Tlio Tracys 
Have always the wiud iu their faces." 

Another version of the story, preserved in the tradi- 
tions of Flanders, wos as follows. Immediately after 
the murder, they lost all sense of taste fnd smell. The 
Tope ordered them to wander through the \vorld, never 
sleeping two niglits in the same place, till both senses 
w^ere recovered. In tneir travels they arrived at Co- 
logne ; and when wine was poured out for them in the 
inn, they perceived its taste {miacke) ; it seemed to them 
sweeter than ho'iey. and they cried out, " O blesced 
Cologne!" They v^ent on to Mechlin; and as the} 
passed through the town, they met a woman, carrying a 
basket of new^ly baked bread, — they 'found the ;:-meir' 
{meek) of it, and cried, " ho^^ Mechlin ! " Creat \vere 
the benefits heaped by the Pope on tnese two towns 
when he heard of it. The brothers (ro they are style,! 
in the Mechlin tradition) built huts for themselves 
under the walls of the Church of St. Painiola, the pa- 
tron saint of Mechlin, and died there. Over their grave, 
written on the outer wall of the circular Chapel of St. 
Eumold, now destroyed, was the following epitaph: 
Rychardiis Brito, ncciion Morialius Hvgo ; GviUi>'linus 
Traei, Reginalclus jiliiis Ursi : Thohiaui tnarturiuin sub- 
ire fecere primatem} 

Such is the legend. The real facts, so far as we can 
ascertain them, are in some respects curiously at vari- 
ance with it; in other respects, no less curiously con- 
firm it. On the one hand the general fate of the mur- 
derers was far less terrible than the popular tradition 

1 Acta S. Kunioldi Sollerius, Antwerp, 1718; communicated b> 
the kindness of Mr. Kinc;. 



124 THEIR KEAL HISTORY. 

delighted to believe. It would seem that, by a s'm 
gular reciprocity, the principle for which Becket had 
contended — that priests should not be subjected to 
secular courts — prevented the trial of a layman for 
the murder of a priest by any other than by a clerical 
tribunal.^ The consequence was, that the perpetrators 
of what was thought the most heinous crime since the 
Crucifixion could be visited with no other penalty than 
excommunication. That they should have performed 
a pilgrimage to Palestine is in itself not improbable ; 
and one of them, as we shall see, certainly attempted 
it. The Bishops of Exeter and Worcester wrote to 
the Pope, urging the necessity of their punishment, 
but adding that any one who undertook such an office 
would be regarded as an enemy of God and of the 
Church.^ But they seem before long to have re- 
covered their position. The other enemies of Becket 
even rose to high offices, — John of Oxford was made 
within five years Bishop of Norwich ; and Geoffrey 
Itiddell, Becket's " archdevil," within four years Bishop 
of Ely [1173] ; and Eichard of Ilchester, Archdeacon 
of Poitiers within three years. 

The murderers themselves, within the first two years 
of the murder, were living at court on familiar terms 
with the king, and constantly joined him in the 
pleasures of the chase,^ or else liawking and hunting 
in England.* 

1 Such, at least, .seem.s the mo.st probable explanation. Tlie fact of 
the law is stated, as in the text, by Speed (p. 511). The law was al- 
tered in 11 70 (23 H. II.), — that i.s, seven years from the date of the 
murder, at the time of the final settlement of the Constitutions of Clar- 
endon, between Henry II. and the Papal Legate (Matt. Paris, 132), — 
and from that time slayers of clergy were punished before the Grand 
Justiciary in the presence of the Bishop. 

2 John of Salisbury's Letters (Giles, ii. 273). 

3 Gervase, 1422. * Lansdowne MS. (Ant. Cant, vii. 211). 



MOREVILLE; FITZUKSE. 125 

Moreville/ who had heen Justice-Itinerant in the 
counties of Northumberland and Cumberland at the 
time of the murder, was discontinued from his office 
the ensuin_^- year ; but in the first year of King Jolui 
he is recorded as paying- twenty-five marks and three 
good palfreys for holding his court so long as Helwise 
his wife should continue in a secular habit. He pro- 
cured, about the same period, a charter for a fair and 
market at Kirk Oswald, and died shortly afterwards, 
leaving two daughters.^ The sword which he wore 
during the murder is stated by Camden to have been 
preserved in liis time ; and is believed to be the one 
still shown in the hall of Brayton Castle,'^ between 
Carlisle and Whitehaven. A cross near the Castle of 
Egremont, which passed into his family, was dedicated 
to Saint Thomas, and the spot where it stood is still 
called St. Thomas's Cross. Fitzurse is said to have 
gone over to Ireland, and there to have become the 
ancestor of the M'Mahon family in the north of Ire- 
land, — M'Mahon being the Celtic translation of Bear's 
son.'* On his flight the estate which he held in the 
Isle of Thanet, Barham or Berham Court, lapsed to 
his kinsman Bobert of Berham, — Berham being, as it 
would seem, the English, as ]\I'Mahon was the Irish, 
version of the name Fitzurse.''' His estate of Willeton, 
in Somersetshire, he made over, — half to the knights 

1 Fcss's Judges, i. 279, 280. 

2 Ljsons's Cumbei-land, p. 127. Nichols's Pilgrimage of Er,a.?niii,<, 
p. 220. He must not be coufuuuded with his uamesake, tlie founder 
of Drybui-gh Abbey. 

^ Now the property of Sir Wilfred Lawson, Bart., where I .saw it 
in 1856. The sword bears as an in.scription, " Gott bewahr die auf- 
richten Schotten." The word " bewahr " proves that the inscription 
(whatever may be the date of the sword) cannot be older than the 
sixteenth century. 

* Fuller's Worthies. ^ Harris's Keut, 31.3. 



126 BRET; FITZKANULPII, TRACY. 

of St. John the year after the murder, probably in ex- 
piation ; the other lialf to his brother IJobert, who built 
the Chapel of Willeton. The descendants of the fam- 
ily lingered for a long time in the neighborhood under 
the same name, — corrupted into Fitzour, Fishour, and 
Fisher.^ The family of Bret, or Brito, was carried on, as 
we shall shortly see, through at least two generations of 
female descendants. The village of Sanford, in Somer- 
setshire, is still called, from the family, "Sanford Brctr'^ 

Eobert Fitzranulph, who had followed the four 
knights into the church, retired at that time from the 
shrievalty of Nottingham and Darby, which he had 
held during the six previous years, and is said to have 
founded a priory of I3eauchief in expiation of his 
crirae.^ But his son William succeeded to the office, 
and was in places of trust about the court till the 
reign of John.'* Robert de Broc appears to have had 
the custody of the Castle of Hagenett, or Agenet, in 
East Anglia.'^ 

The history of Tracy is the most remarkable of the 
whole. Within four years from the murder he appears 
as Justiciary of Normandy ; he was present at Falaise 
in 1174, when William, King of Scotland, did homage 
to Henry II., and in 1176 was succeeded in his office 
by the Bishop of Winchester." This is tlie last au- 
thentic notice of him. But his name ajipears hmg 
subsequently in the somewhat conflicting traditions 
of Gloucestershire and Devonshire, the two counties 
where his chief estates lay. The local histories of the 

1 Tdllinson's Somersptsliiro, iii. 487. - Iliid., ,514. 

3 The tradition is dit^putud, Imt \\ itliout reason, iu Peggc's Beau- 
chief Abbey, p. 34. 

4 Foss's Judges, i. 202. 

5 Brompton, 1089; Gervase, 1426. 

6 Nichols's Pilgrimage of Erasmus, ]). 221 



TIJACY. 127 

former endeavor to identify him in the wars of John 
and of Henry HI., as late as 1216 and 1222. lUit 
even without cutting short his career by any untimely 
end, such longevity as tliis would ascribe to him — 
bringing him to a good old age of ninety — makes it 
probable that he has been confounded with his son 
or grandson.^ There can be little doubt, however, 
that his family still continues in (noucestershire. His 
daughter married Sir Gervase de Courtenay; and it is 
apparently from their son, (Jliver de Tracy, who took 
the name of his mother, that the present Lord Wemyss 
and Lord Sudley are l)oth descended. The pedigree, in 
fact, contrary to all received opinions on the subject of 
judgments on sacrilege, "exhibits a very singular in- 
stance of an estate descending for upwards of seven 
hundred years in the male line of the same family." ^ 
The Devonshire story is more romantic, and probably 
contains more both of truth and of fal)le. There ai'e 
two points on the coast of North Devon to which local 
tradition has attached his name. <_)ne is a huge rent 
or cavern called " Crookhorn " (from a crooked crag 
now washed away) in the dark rocks immediately west 
of llfracombe, which is left dry at low water, but filled 
by the tide except for tliree months in the yeor. At 
one period within those three months, " Sir William 
Tracy," according to the story of the llfrncombe boat- 
men, "hid himself for a fortnight immediately after 
the murder, and was fed l:)y his daughter." The other 
and more remarkable spot is Morthoe, a village situ- 
ated a few miles farther west on the same coast, — " the 
height or hold of I\Iortc." In the south transept of 
the parish church of this village, dedicated to Saint 

1 E udder's (lluncostcrsliire, 776. 
'•2 Iliid., 770; Uritton'ti Toddington. 



128 TIIACY. 

Mary Magdalene, is a tomb, for which the transept has 
evidently been built. On the black marble covering, 
which lies on a freestone base, is an inscription closing 
with the name of " Sir William Tracy, — The Lord 
have mercy on his soul." This tomb was long sup- 
posed, and is still believed by the inhabitants of the 
village, to contain the renuiins of the murderer, who 
is further stated to have founded the church. The fe- 
male figures sculptured on tlie tomb — namely. Saint 
Catherine and Saint Mary Magdalene — are represented 
as his wife and daughter. That this story is fabulous 
has now been clearly proved by documentary evidence, 
as well as by the appearance of the architecture and 
the style of the inscription. The present edifice is of 
the reign of Henry A^ll. The tomb and transept are 
of the reign of Edward II. " Sir ^ William Tracy " 
was the rector of the parish, who died and left this 
chantry in 132"2; and the figure carved on the t»>ml> 
represents him in his sacerdotal vestments, with the 
chalice in his hand. But although there is thus no 
proof that the murderer was buried in the church, and 
although it is possible that the whole story may have 
arisen from the mistake concerning this monument, 
there is still no reason to doubt that in this neighbor- 
hood " he lived a private life, when wind and weather 
turned against him." ^ William of Worcester states 
that he retired to the western parts of England ; and 
this statement is confirmed by the well-attested fact of 

1 Ecclesiastical Antiquities of Devonshire, ii. 82. Tlie title "Sir" 
was tlie common designation of parish priests. I have liore to express 
my obligations to the kindness of the Kev. Charles Crumpe, who has 
devoted much labor to prove that the lid of the tomb, thougli not the 
tomb itself, may liave lielonged to the grave of tlic murderer. For 
tlie reasons above given, I am unable to concur with him. 

2 Pollwhele's Devonshire, i. 480. 



TRACY. 129 

his confession to Bartholomew, Bisliop of Exeter. Tlic 
property belonged to the family, and there is an old 
farmhouse, close to the sea-shore, still called Woolla- 
combe Tracy, which is said to mark the spot where he 
lived in banishment. Beneath it, enclosed within black 
jagged headlands, extends Morte Bay. Across the bay 
stretch the Woollacombe Sands, remarkable as being tlie 
only sands along the north coast, and as presenting a 
pure and driven exjianse for some miles. Here, so runs 
the legend, he was banished " to make bundles of the 
sand, and binds [wisps] of the same." ^ 

Besides these floating traditi<jns there are what may 
be called two standing monuments of his connection 
with the murder. One is the Priory of Woodspring, 
near the liristol Channel, which was founded in 1210 
T)y William de Courtenay, probably his grandson, in 
honor of the Holy Trinity, the Blessed Virgin, aiul 
Saint Thomas of (Canterbury. To this priory lands 
were bequeathed by ]\laud the daughter, and Alice tlie 
granddaughter, of the third murderer, Bret or Brito, in 
the hope, expressed by Alice, that the intercession of 
the glorious martyr might never be wanting to her and 
her children.^ Its ruins still remain under the long 
promontory called, from it, " St. Thomas's Head." In 
the old church of Kewstoke, al)Out three miles from 
Woodspring, during some repairs in 1852, a woodim 
cup, much decayed, was discovered in a hollow in the 
back of a statue of the A'irgin fixed against the north 
wall of the choir. The cup contained a substance 
which was decided to be the dried residuum of blood. 
From the connection of the priory with the murderers 

1 This I heard from the jieojilo on the spot. It is of t-imrso a mere 
appropriation of a wide-sjiread story, lioro suggested hy the locality. 
- Collinson's Somersetshire, iii. 4S7, :->V.i. 
9 



130 TRACY. 

of Becket, and from the fact that tlie seal of the Prior 
contained a cup or chalice as part of its device, there 
can be little doubt that this ancient cup was thus pre- 
served at the time of the Dissolution, as a valuable 
relic, and that the blood which it contained was that of 
the murdered Primate.^ 

The other memorial of Tracy is still more curious, 
as partially confirming and certainly illustrating the 
legendary account which has been given above of his 
adventure in Calabria. In the archives of Canterbury 
Cathedral a deed exists by which " William de Tracy, 
for the love of God, and the salvation of his own soul 
and his ancestors, and for the love of the blessed 
Thomas Archbishop and Martyr," makes over to the 
Chapter of Canterbury the IManor of Daccombe, for the 
clothing and support of a monk to celebrate Masses 
for the souls of the living and the dead. The deed 
is without date, and it might possibly, therefore, liave 
been ascribed to a descendant of Tracy, and not to the 
murderer himself. lUit its date is fixed by the confir- 
mation of Henry, attested as that confirtnation is liy 
" Richard, elect of Winchester," and " Pobert, elect of 
Hereford," to the year 1174 (the only year when 
Henry's presence in England coincided with such a 
conjunction in the two sees).^ The manor of Dac- 
combe, or Dockham, in Devonshire, is still held un- 
der the Chapter of Canterbury, and is thus a present 
witness of the remorse with which Tracy humbly 
begged that, on the scene of his deed of blood, Masses 

1 Journal of the Arclijeological Institute, vi. 400. The cup, or 
rather fragment of the cup, is in the museum at Taunton. 

■^ This deed (which is given in theApjiendix to " Becket's Shrine") 
is slightly mentioned by Lord Lyttelton in his " History of Henry II.," 
iv. 284 ; hut he ap])ears not to liave seen it, and is ignorant of the cir- 
cumstances whicli inci)utestaldy H.x tlie date. 



PICTOKIAL KKPHESENTATTONR OF THE IMrUDEl}. 131 

might be nflered, not for himself individually (this, per- 
haps, could hardly have been granted), but as in- 
cluded in the general category of "the living and the 
dead." IJut, further, this deed is found in company 
with another document, by which it appears that one 
William Thaun, he/on: his dcpaiHurc to the Hoi;/ Land 
■with his master, made his wife swear to render up to 
the Blessed Thomas and the monks of Canterbury all 
his laiuls, given to him by his lord, William de Tracy. 
He died on his journey, his widow married again, antl 
her second husband i»revented her fulfilment of her 
oath; she, however, survived him, and the lands were 
duly rendered up. From this statement we learn that 
Tracy really did attemitt, if not fulfil, a journey to the 
Holy Land. lUit the attestation of the bequest of 
Tracy himself enables us to identify the stfiry still 
further. One of the witnesses is the Abbot of St. 
Euphemia ; and there can be little doubt that this 
Abbey of St. Euphemia was the celel)rated convent of 
that name in Calabria, not twenty miles from Cosenza, 
the very spot where the detention, though not the 
death, of Tracy is thus, as it would appear, justly 
placed by the old story. 

The figures of the murderers may bo seen in the rep- 
resentations of the martyrdom, which on walls or in 
painted windows or in ancient frescos have survived 
the attempted extermination of all the monuments of 
the traitor Becket by King Henry VIIL Sometimes 
three, sometimes four, are given, l)ut always so far 
faithful to history that Moreville is stationed aloof 
from the massacre. Two vestiges of such representa- 
tion still remain in .Canterbury Cathedral. One is a 
painting on a board, now greatly defaced, at the head 
of the tomb of King Henry IV. It is engraved, though 



132 PICTORIAL REPRESENTATIONS OF THE MUKlJER. 

not quite correctly, in Carter's " Ancient Sculpture and 
Painting ; " and through the help of the engraving, the 
principal figures can still be dimly discerned.^ There 
is the common mistake of making the Archl)isho[) kneel 
at the altar, and of representing (Jrim, with his blood- 
stained arm, as the bearer of the cross. The knights 
are carefully distinguished from one another. Jiret, 
with boars' heads embroidered on his surcoat, is in the 
act of striking. Tracy appears to have already dealt a 
blow ; and the bloody stains are visible on his sword, to 
mark the " primns jjcrcu.'isor." Fitzurse, with bears on 
his coat, is " stirring the brains " of his victim, holding 
his sword with both hands i)eri)endicularly, thus taking 
the part sometimes ascribed to him, thougli really be- 
longing to Mauclerc. More\'ille, distinguished by tleurs- 
de-lis, stands apart. All of them have beards of the 
style of Henry IV. On the ground lies the bloody 
scalp, or cap, it is difficult to determine which.^ There 

1 A correct copy lias now been made by Mr. Gcor;.;*' .\ustin, of 
Canterbury. 

- A much more faitbfiil representation is c:iven in an illiuiiiiiated 
I'salter in tbe British Museum (Marl. 1. 502), undoubtedly of the ])C- 
riod, and, a.s Becket is depicted vvitliuut the nimbus, probably soon 
after, if not before, the canonization. He is represented in white 
drapery, falling towards the altar. His gray cap is dro])ping to the 
ground. Fitzurse and Tracy are rightly given witli coats of mail u]) 
to their eyes. Moreville is without helmet or armor ; Fitzurse is 
wounding (irim. A light hangs from the roof. The palace (appar- 
ently), with the town wall, is seen in the distance. There is another 
illumination in the same Psalter, representing the burial. In the 
"Journal of the Archicological Association," Api'il, 1854, there is a full 
account of a fresco in St John's Chnrcli, Winchester ; in the " Arch;c- 
ologia " (vol. ix.), of one at Brereton in Cheshire. The widest deviation 
from historical truth is to he found in the modern altar-piece of the 
Church of St. Thomas, which forms the chapel of the English College 
at Rome. The saint is represented in a monastic garb, on his knees 
before the altar of a Roman Basilica; and behind him are the three 
knights, in complete classical costume, brandishing daggers like tho.se 
of the assassins of Ccesar. The nearest likeness of the event is in the 



THE KING'S REMORSE. 133 

is, besides, a sculpture over the south porch, where 
Erasmus states that he saw the figures of " the three 
murderers," with their names of " Tusci, Fusci, and 
Berri," ^ underneath. These figures liave disappeared ; 
and it is as difficult to imagine where they could have 
stood, as it is to explain the origin of the names they 
bore; but in the portion which remains, there is a rep- 
resentation of an altar surmounted by a crucifi.x, placed 
between the figures of Saint John and the Virgin, ami 
marked as the altar of the martyrdom, — " Altare ad 
punctum ensis," — by sculptured fragments^ of a sword 
which lie at its foot. 

[1170.] Thus far have we traced the history of the 
murderers, but tlu^ great expiation still remained. The 
king had gone from lUir to Argenton, a town situated 
on the high tabledand of southern Normandy. The 
night before the news arrived (s(j ran the story •'^) an 
aged iidiabitant of Argenton was startled in his sleep 
by a scream I'ising as if from tlie ground, and form- 
ing it -self into these portentous words: "Behold, my 
blood cries from the earth more loudly than the blood 
of righteous Abel, who was killed at the beginning of 
the world." The old man on the following day was 
discussing with his friend what this could mean, when 

flioir of SeiLS Cathedral. A strikin£j modern ]iictnro of the scene, 
just hefore tlie onshin^jht of tlie murderers, iiy tlie Kni;lish artist .Mr 
Cros.s (see Eraser's Magazine, June, 1861), is now \\mvj; in tlie nortii 
ai.sle of the eatliedral. 

1 " Berri " is prohahly a mi.stake for Brar's .S'«», Fitzurse's (Fusci's) 
English name. The same names occur in Hentzner's Tra\els in Imilt- 
lan<l, l.'iOS: "In vestilmlo temjili (|UcMi est ad anstrnm in sa.xiim incisi 
sunt tres armati . . . a(hiitis his c()gn<iniiniliiis, 'J'nsri, Fasri, Berri." 

■^ That these are rejiresentations <d' the limken swurd is contirmed 
by the exactly .similar representation in the seal of the Abhey of 
Aberbrothock. 

^ Benedict, de Mirac. S. Thonia?, i. 3. 



134 THE KING'S REMORSE. 

suddenly the tidings arrived that Becket had been slain 
at Canterbury. When the king heard it, he instantly 
shut himself up for three days, refused all food ^ except 
milk of almonds, rolled hhnself in sackcloth and ashes, 
vented his grief in frantic lamentations, and called God 
to witness that he was in no way responsible for the 
Archbishop's death, unless that he loved him too little.- 
He continued in this solitude for five weeks, neither 
riding nor transacting public business, but exclaiming 
again and again, "Alas ! alas that it ever happened !"\^ 
The French King, the Archbishop of Sens, and otli- 
ers had meanwhile written to the Pope, denouncing 
Henry in the strongest language as the murderer, and 
calling for vengeance upon his head;* and there was 
a fear that this vengeance would take the terrible form 
of a public excommunication of the king and an inter- 
dict of the kingdom. Henry, as soon as he was roused 
from his retirement, sent off as envoys to Eome the 
Archbishop of Itouen, the Bishop of Worcester, and 
others of his courtiers, to avert the dreaded penalties 
by announcing his submission. The Archbishop of 
Eouen returned on account of illness ; and Alexander 
HI., who occupied the Papal See, and who after long 
struggles with his rival had at last got back to Eome, 
refused to receive the rest. He was, in fact, in the 
eyes of Christendom, not wholly guiltless himself, in 
consequence of the lukewarmness with which he had 
fought Becket's fights ; and it was believed that he, 
like the king, had shut himself up on hearing the news 
as much from remorse as from grief. At last, by a bribe 

1 Vita Quadripartita, p. 143. " Milk of almonds " is used iu Russia 
during fasts instead of comniuu niiliv. 
- Matt. Paris, 125. 
3 Vita Quadripartita, p. 146 * Brompton, 1064. 



THE KING'S llEMOKSE. 135 

of live hundred inarks,^ an interview was effected on 
the heiglits of ancient Tuscuhmi, — not yet superseded 
hy the modern Frascati. Two cardinals — Tlieodore (or 
Theodwin), Bishop of Portus, and Albert, Chancellor of 
the Holy See — were sent to Normandy to receive the 
royal penitent's subnussion,^ and an excommunication 
was pronounced against the murderers on Maunday 
Thursday,^ which is still the usual day f(jr the delivery 
of papal maledictions. The worst of the threatened 
evils — excommunication and interdict — were thus 
avoided ; but Henry still felt so insecure that he 
crossed over to England, ordered all the ports to be 
strictly guarded to prevent the adnussion of the fatal 
document, and refused to see any one who was the 
bearer of letters.'* It was during this short stay that 
he visited for the last time the old lUshop of Winches- 
ter,^ Henry of Blois, brother of King Stephen, well 
known as the founder of tlie beautiful hospital of St 
Cross, when tlie dying old man added his solemn warn- 
ings to those which were resounding from every quar- 
ter with regard to the deed of blood. From England 
Henry crossed St. George's Channel to his new con- 
quests in Ireland; and it was on his return from the 
expedition that the first public expression of his peni- 
tence was made in Normandy. 

lie repaired to his castle of Corram,*^ now Goron, on 
the banks of the Colmont, wdiere he first met the Pope's 

1 (iervaso, 1418. '- r>n)ni])t()ii, I0G8. 

3 (iervasp, 1418. * Hiceto, .5.50. 

■^ Gervase, 1419. 

c Ep. St. Thiiina- in MSS. Cott. CImikI., 1). ii. f. .">.50, ep. 94; also 
preserved in the " \'ita Qnadrijjartita," oilircil \>y Lupus at Brussels 
})p. 140, 147, 871, wliere, however, tlie eijistic is nmnhcred 88 from a 
Vatican manuseript. 

Tlie ra.stle in qnestidii was jirocnroil Ky Hcnrv T. IVoni (ieoffruv, 
tliird duke of Mayenne, and was well known for its deer-j reserves. To 



136 PENANCE AT GORRAM AND AVRANCIIES. [1172. 

Legates, and exchanged the kiss of charity with them. 
This was on the 16th of INIay, the Tuesday before the 
Eogation days ; the next day he went on to Savigny, 
where they were joined by the Archbishop of Eouen 
and many bishops and noblemen ; and finally proceeded 
to the Council, which was to be held under the aus- 
pices of the Legate at Avranches. 

The great Norman cathetlral of that beautiful city 
stood on what was perhaps tlie finest situation of any 
cathedral in Christendom, — on the brow of the high 
ridge which sustains the town of Avranches, and look- 
ing over the wide bay, in tlie centre of which stands 
the sanctuary of Norujan chivalry and superstition, the 
majestic rock of 8t. Michael, crowned witli its for- 
tress and chapel. Of this vast cathedral, one granite 
pillar alone has survived the neglect that followed the 
French Eevolution, and that pilhir marks the spot 
where Henry performed his first penance for the mur- 
der of Uecket. It bears an inscri})tion with tliese 
words : " Sur cette pierre, ici, a la porte de la cathe- 
drale d' Avranches, apres le meurtre de Thomas Becket, 
Archeveque de Cantorbdry, Henri IL, Eoi d'Angleterre 
et Due de Xormandie, recut a genoux, des Idgats du 
Pape, rabsolutioii apostoli(|ue, le Dimanche, xxi Mai. 
MCLXXII." 1 

tlie ecclesitistical Iiistoriaii of tlie ninoteontli contiirv tlie town near 
which it is situated will jiossess a cnrions interest, as the original 
seat of the family of Gorrain, or (iorhani, whieh after piving hirth 
to Geoffrey the Ahhot of St. Alhans and Nicholas the theologian, each 
famous in liis day, has iK'conie known in onr generation through the 
celebrated (iorliam controx crsy, which in 18.50 invested for a time 
with an almost Knropean interest tiie name of the late George Corne- 
lius Gorham, vicar of Rramford Speke. To liis courtesy and profound 
antiquarian knowledge I am indebted for the above references. 

1 So the inscription stands as I saw it in 1874. Rut as it appenred 
vvheu 1 first saw it, in 1851, and also in old guide-books of Normandy, 



1172.] PENANCE AT AVRANCHES. 137 

The council was held in the Church, on the Friday 
of the same week. U.i the following Sunday, being 
Eogation Sunday, or that which precedes the Ascen- , 
sion, tlie king swore on the Gospels that he had not A 
ordered or wished the Archbishop's murder ; but that 
as lie could not put the assassins to death, and feared 
that his fury had instigated them to the act, he was 
ready on his part to make all satisfaction, — adding, of 
himself, that he had not grieved so much for the death 
of his father or his mother.^ He next swore adhesion 
to the Pope, restitution of the property of the See of 
Canterbury, and renunciation of the Constitutions of 
Clarendon ; and further ])romised, if the Pope required, 
to go a three years' crusade to Jerusalem or Spain, and 
to sii])port two hundred soldiers for tlie Templars.- Af- 
ter this he said aloud, " Jiehold, my Lords Legates, my 
body is in your hands ; be assured that whatever you 
order, whether to go to Jerusalem or to Eome or to 
St James [of Compostela], I am ready to obey." The 
spectators, whose sympathy is usually with the sufferer 
of the hour, were almost moved to tears. '^ He was 
thence led liy the legates to the porch, where he knelt, 
but was raised up, brought into the church, and recon- 

it \v;is " xxii Mni." ^Ir. ririrhani jxiiiited out to nie at the time that 
the 22(1 of May did not that year fall on a Simday : — 

"III A. I). 1171, ^muhn fell on May 2.'3<i. 
In .\. I.. 1172, " " " May 21st. 

In .\. I). 117.'!, " " " May 20th. 
The only years in the Ye\gn of Henry II. in wliich May 22d fell on a 
Sunday were a. d. 1I.'3.5, 1160, 1166, 1177, 1183, 1188." There seems 
no reason to douht the year 1172, which is fixed hy the Cotton MS. 
Life of Saint Thomas, nor the fact tl-.at it was in May; not, as Ger- 
va.se (p. 422) .states, on the 27th of Septendier, misled perhaps, as Mr. 
fioi-ham suggests, hy some document subsequently signed by the 
king. 

1 Piceto, .'5.')7. 

- Alan., in Vka Quadripartita, p. 147. 3 Gervase, 1422 



138 THE KING AT BONNEVILLE. [1174. 

ciled. The young Henry, at liis father's suggestion, was 
also present, and, placing his liand in that, of Cardinal 
Albert,^ promised to make good his father's oath. The 
Archbishop of Tours was in attendance, that he might 
certify the penance to the French king. 

Two years passed again, and the fortunes of the king 
grew darker and darker witli the rebellion of his sons. 
It was this which led to the final and greater pen- 
ance at Canterbury. [1174.] He was conducting a 
campaign against Prince Kichard in Poitou, when the 
P)ishop of Winchester arrived with the tidings that 
England was in a state of general revolt. The Scots 
had crossed the border, under their king ; Yorkshire 
was in rebellion, under the standard of Mowbray ; 
Norfolk, under Bigod ; the midland counties, under 
Ferrers and Huntingdon ; and the Earl of Flanders 
with Prince Henry was meditating an invasion of Eng- 
land from Flanders. All these hostile movements were 
further fomented and sustained by the revival of the 
belief, not sufficiently dissipated by the penance at 
Avranches, that the king had himself been privy to the 
murder of the saint. In the winter after that event, a 
terrible storm had raged through England, Ireland, and 
France, and the po])ular imagination heard in the long 
roll of thunder the blood of Saint Thomas roaring to 
Cod for vengeance.^ The next year, as we have seen, 
the saint had l)een canonized ; and his fame as the 
great miracle-worker of the time was increasing every 
month. It was under these circumstances that on the 
midsummer-day of the year 1174 the Bishop found the 
king at Bonneville.^ So many messages had been daily 

1 Alan., in Vita Quadripartita, pp. 147, 148. 

2 lyiatthew of Westminster, '2.50. 

* " Tlie c-lironiclers liave made a confusion betweun June and July; 
but .Iiihi U rijiht. " — HovEDEN, 308. 



117-1.1 HIS KIDE FROM .SOUTHAMPTON. 139 

despatched, and so much iin]iortance was attaclied to 
the chai'acter of the JUshop of Winchester, that the 
Normans, on seeing his arrival, exclaimed, " The next 
thing that the English will send over to fetch the king 
will be the Tower of London itself."^ Henry saw at 
once the emergency. That very day, with the queens 
P^leanor and Margaret, his son and daughter John and 
Joan, and the princesses, wives of his other sons, he set 
out for England. He embarked in spite of the threat- 
ening weather and the ominous looks of the captain. 
A tremendous gale sprang u}t ; and the king uttered a 
public prayer on l)()ard the ship, that, " if his arrival in 
England would be for gi»od, it might be accomplished ; 
if for evil, nm-ev.'' 

The wind al)ated, and he arrived at Southampton 
on Monday, the 8th of July. From that moment he Y 
began to live on the penitential diet of bread and 
water, and deferred all business till he had fulfilled 
his vow. He rode to Canterbury with speed, avoiding 
towns as much as possible, and on Friday, the 12tli of 
-Tuly, approached the sacred city, })robably by a road of 
which traces still remain, over the Surrey hills, and 
which falls into what was then, as now, the London 
road by the ancient village and hospital of Harbledown. 
This hospital, or leper -house, now venerable with the 
age of seven centuries, was then fresh from the hands 
of its founder, l^antrane ^\'hether it had yet o])tained 
the relic of tlic saint — the upper leather ot his shoe, 
wliich Erasmus saw and which it is said remained in 
the almshouse almost down to our own day — does not 
appear; liut he halted there, a.s was the wont of all 
pilgrims, and made a gift of forty marks to the lit- 
tle church. And now, as he climbed the steep road 

J Diceto, 573. 



140 PENANCE IN THE CRYPT. [1174. 

beyond the hospital and descended on the other side of 
the hill, the first view of the cathedral burst upon him, 
rising, not indeed in its present proportions, but still 
with its three towers and vast front ; and he leaped otf 
his horse, and went on foot through a road turned into 
puddles by the recent storms,^ to the outskirts of the 
town. Here, at 8t. Dunstan's Church,- he paused again, 
entered the edifice with the prelates who were present, 
stripped off* his ordinary dress, and walked through the 
streets in the guise of a penitent pilgrim, — barefoot, 
and with no other covering than a woollen shirt, and a 
cloak thrown over it to keep off* rain.^ 

So, amidst a wondering crowd, — the rough stones nf 
the streets marked with the blood that started from 
his feet, — he reached the cathedral. 'J'here he knelt, 
as at Avranches, in the porch, then entered the church, 
and went straight to the scene (if the murder in the 
north transept. Here he knelt again, and kissed the 
sacred stone on which the Archl)ishop had fallen, 
the prelates standing round to receive his confession. 
Thence he was conducted to the crypt, where he again 
knelt, and with groans and tears kissed the tomb and 
remained lung in prayer. At this stage of the solem- 
nity (lilbert Foliot, Jiishop of London, — the ancient 
opponent and rival of ISecket, — addressed the monks 
and Jjy Stan ders, announcing to them the king's peni- 
tence for having by his rash words unwittingly occa- 
sioAed the perpetration of a crime of which he him- 
self w^as innocent, and his intention of restoring the 
rights and property of tlie church, and bestowing forty 
marks yeaily on the monastery to keep lamps burning 

1 Trivet, 104; Robert of Mont S. Michel. (Appeudix to Sigebert 
iu Pertiies, vol. vi.) 

^ Grim, 86. ■*' Cariiier, 78, 29. He was present. 



,174.] 



PENANCE IN THE CRYPT. 



141 



constantly at tlie martyrs tomb.^ The king ratified 
all that the bishop had said, requested absolution, and 
received a kiss of reconciliation from the prior. He 
knelt again at the toml), removed the rough cloak 
which had l)tH'n thrown over his shoulders, but still 







THE CUYPT, CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL. 

retained the woollen shirt to hide the liaircloth,^ which 
was visible to near observation, next his skin, placed 
his head and shoulders in the tomb, and there received 
five strokes from each bishop and abbot who was 
present, beginning with Foliot, who stood by with the 
" balai,'' or monastic rod, in his hand,-^ and three from 

' Carnicr, 80, 0. 

2 Newhureli .•vk>i!e (1181) ropi-esents: tlie penance as having taken 
place in the chapterhouse, donlitless as tiie usual place for discipline. 
The part surrounding the tonih was superseded in the next generation 
hy the circular vault which now supports the Trinity Chapel. But 
tlie architecture must have heen like what is now seen in the western 
portion of the crypt. 

•^ (irim, 86. "A lively reprosontation of Henry's penance is to he 
seen in Carter's Ancient Sculpture and Painting (p. 50). The king is 



142 ABSOLUTION. [1174. 

eacli of the eighty monks. Fully absolved, he resumed 
his clothes, but was still left in the crypt, resting 
against one of the rude Norman pillars,^ on the bare 
ground, with bare feet^ still unwashed from the muddy 
streets, and passed the whole night fasting. At early 
matins he rose and went round the altars and shrines 
of the upper church, then retuineil to the tomb, and 
finally, after hearing Mass, drank of the Martyr's well, 
and carried off one of the usual phials of Canterbury 
pilgrims, containing water mixed with the blood, and 
so rode to London.-^ 

So deep a humiliation of so great a prince was un- 
paralleled within the memory of that generation. The 
submission of Theodosius to Ambrose, of Louis le De- 
bonnaire at Soissons, of Otho III. at liavenna, of Edgar 
tij Dunstan, of the J^inperor Henry IV. to Gregory 
Yil., were only known as matters of history. It is 
not surprising that the usual Hgure of speech l)y which 
the chroniclers express it should be, — 'the moun- 
tains trembled at tlie presence of the Lord," — "the 
mountain of Canterljury smoked before Him who 
touches' the hills and they smoke." ■* The auspicious 
consequences were supposed to be immediate. The 
king had arrived in London on Sunday, and was so 

represented as kneeling, crowned lint almost naked, before the shrine. 
Two great officers, one bearing tbe sword of State, stand behind him. 
The monks in their black Benedictine robes are defiling round the 
shrine, each with a large rod in his hand approaching tlie bare shoul- 
ders of the king. A good notion of this ceremony of the scourginji- is 
conveyed by the elaborate formalities with which it was nominally, 
and probably for the last time, exercised by Pope Julius II. and the 
Cardinals on the Venetian Deputies in \50<J." — Sketches of Venetian 
Histori/, c. 16. 

1 Garnier, 80, 29. - Diceto, 575. 

3 See Note A. to the Essay on " Becket's Shrine." 

* Grim, 80. 



I'U.] COUNT KALPII OF GLANVILLE. 143 

completely exhausted by the effects of the lon2; day 
and night at Canterhury, tliat he was seized with a 
dangerous fever. On the following 'J'hursday/ afniid- 
niglit, the guards were roused l)y a violent knocking at 
the gates. The messenger, who announced that he 
brought good tidings, w\as reluctantly admitted into 
the king's bedroom. Tlie king, starting from his sleej), 
said, "Who art thouT' "I am the servant of your 
faithful Count ]Ja]])li of (llanville," was the answer, 
"and 1 come to bring y(»u good tidings." " Is our good 
Ealph well ? " asked the king. " He is well," answered 
the servant, " and he has taken your eiuuny, the King 
of the Scots, prisoner at Richmond. " The king was 
thunderstruck ; the servant repeated his message, and 
produced the letters confirming it.^ Tlie king leaped 
from his bed, and returned thanks to God and Saint 
Thomas. The victory over William the Lion had taken 
place 'on tlie very Saturday on wliicli he liad left Can- 
terbury, after having made'"^ his peace with the martyr 
On that same Saturday the fleet with which liis son 
had intended to invade England from Flanders* was 
driven back. It was in the entliusiasm of this crisis 
that Tracy, as it would seem, presented to the king 
the bequest of his manor of Daccombe to the monks of 
Canterbury, which accordingly received then and tliere, 
at Westminster, the royal confirmation.^ Once more, 
so far as we know, the penitent king and the penitent 
knight met, in the December of that same year, when, 

^ Gervase's Chronicle, 1427. 

2 Brompton, 1095. The effect of tliis .story is heigbteiieil l)y Guu- 
fridus Vosiensis (Script- Rer. Franc, 443), who speaks of the an- 
nouncement as taking place in Canterlmry Cathedral, after Mass was 
finished. 

3 Brompton, 1096. * Matt. Paris, 130, 
■^ See Appenili.x U) " Becket's Shrine." 



144 CONtLUSIOX. 

ill the fortress of Falaise, the captured kin,L; of Scotl;;r.d 
did homage to his conqueror; Tracy standing, as of old, 
by his masters side, but now in the high position of 
Justiciary of Normandy. N(jr did the association of 
his capture with the Martyr's power pass away from 
the mind of William the Lion. He, doubtless in recol- 
lection of these scenes, reared on his return to Scotland 
the stately abbey of x\berbrotliock, to the memory of 
Saint Thomas of Canterbury. 

Thus ended this great tragedy. Its effects on the 
constitution of the country and on the religious feeling 
not only of England but of Europe, would open too large 
a field. It is enough if, from the narrative we have 
given, a clearer notion can be formed of that remark- 
aljle event than is to be derived from the works either 
of his professed apologists or professed opponents, — if 
tlie scene can be more fully realized, the localities more 
accurately identified, the man and his age more clearly 
understood. If there be any who still regard Becket 
as an ambitious and unprincipled traitor, plotting for 
his own aggrandizement against the welfare of the mon- 
archy, they will perhaps be induced, by the accounts 
of his last moments, to grant to him the honor, if not 
of a martyr, at least of an honest and courageous man, 
and to believe that such restraints as the religious awe 
of high character or of sacred place and office, laid on 
men like Henry and his courtiers, are not to be despised 
in any age, and in that lawless and cruel time were al- 
most the only safeguards of life and, property. If there 
be any who are glad to welcome or stimulate attacks, 
however unmeasured in language or unjust in fact, 
against bishops and clergy, whether Eoman Catholic or 
Protestant, in the hope of securing the interests of Chris- 
tian liberty against priestly tyranny, they may take warn 



CONCLUSION. 145 

ing by the reflection that tlie greatest impulse ever given 
in this country to the cause of sacerdotal independence 
was the reaction produced by the horror consequent on 
the deed of Fitzurse and Tracy. Those, on the other 
hand, who in the curious change of feeling that has 
come over our age are inclined to the ancient reverence 
for Saint Thomas of Canterbury as the meek and gentle 
saint of holier and hap})ier times than our own, may 
perhaps be led to modify their judgment by the descrip- 
tion, taken not from his enemies but from his admiring 
followers, of the violence, the obstinacy, the furious 
words and acts, which deformed even the dignity of 
his last hour, and wellnigh turned the solemnity of his 
" martyrdom " into an unseemly brawl. They may 
learn to see in tlie brutal conduct of the assassins, in 
the abject cowardice of the monks, in the savage mor- 
tifications and the fierce passions of Becket himself, 
how little ground there is for that paradise of faith 
and love which some modern writers find for us in the 
age of the Plantagenet kings.^ And for those who be- 
lieve tliat an indiscriminate maintenance of ecclesiasti- 
cal claims is the best service they can render to God 
and the Church, and that opposition to the powers that 

1 One of the ablest of Becket's recent apologists (Ozanam, Les deux 
Chaiitf'lieis), w jio eoml)ines with hi.s veneration for the Archliisliop that 
singular ailiiiiration which almost all continental Catholics entertain 
for the late " Lilicrator" of Ireland, declares that on O'Connell, if on 
any character of this age, the mantle of the saint and martyr has de- 
scended. Perhaps the readers of our narrative will think that, in some 
respects, the comparison of the Frenchman is true in another sense 
than that in which he intended it. So fixed an idea has the similarity 
become in the minds of foreign Roman Catholics, that in a popular 
life of Saint Thomas, published as one of a series at Prague, under the 
authority of the Archbishop of Cologne, the concluding moral is an 
appeal to the example of " the most glorious of laymen," as Pope 
Gregory XVI. called Daniel O'Connell, who as a second Thomas 
strove and suffered for the liberties of his country and his church. 
10 



146 CONCLUSION. 

be is enough to entitle a l)ishop to the honors of a saint 
and a hero, it may not be without instruction to remem- 
ber that the Constitutions of Clarendon, which Becket 
spent his life in opposing, and of which his death pro- 
cured the suspension, are now incorporated in the Eng- 
lish law, and are regarded, without a dissentient voice, 
as among the wisest and most necessary of English in- 
stitutions ; that the especial point for which he surren- 
dered his life was not the independence of the clergy 
from the encroachments of the crown, but the personal 
and now forgotten (piestion of the su[ieriority of tiie See 
of Canterbury to the See of York.^ Finally, we must 
all remember that the wretched superstitions which 
gathered round the shrine of Saint Thomas ended by 
completely alienating the affections of thinking men 
from his memory, and rendering the name of Becket a 
byword of reproach as little proportioned to liis real 
deserts as had been the reckless veneration paid to it 
by his worshippers in the Middle Ages. 

1 " Haec fuit vera et nniia causa ant itccasio nei'i.s S. Thoniaj." — 
GoussAiNViLi.K, ill Peter ul' JJlois, tp. 22 (see Robertson, p. 200). 
Compare Memorials of Westminster, chap. ii. and chap. v. 



The Lady Chapel. 



y 



EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 



This lecture, it will be seen, dwells almost entirely upon those points 
which give an interest to the tonil) at Canterhur^^. For any general 
view of the subject, the reader must go to Fruissart, or to the biog- 
raphies of Barnes and James ; for any further details, to the excellent 
essays in the 20th, 22d, 28th, and 32d volumes of the "Archaeologia," 
and to the contemporary metrical life by Chandos, to which reference 
is made in the course of the lecture. The Ordinance founding his 
Chantry, and the Will which regulated his funeral and the erection of 
his tomb, are printed at the end, with notes by Mr. Albert Way. 



EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 



Lecture delivered at Canterbury, June, 1852. 

EVERY one who has endeavored to study history 
must be struck by the advantage which those enjoy 
who live within the neighborhood of great historical 
monuments. To have seen the place wdiere a great 
event happened ; to have seen the picture, the statue, 
the tomb, of an illustrious man, — is the next thing to 
being present at the event in })erson,to seeing the scene 
with uur own eyes. In this res})ect few spots in Eng- 
land are more highly favored than Canterbury. It is 
not too much to say that if any one were to go through 
the various spots of interest in or around our great 
cathedral, and ask what happened here, — who was 
tlie man whose tomb we see, — why was he buried 
liere, — what efi'ect did his life or liis death have on 
tlie world, — a real knowledge of the history of Eng- 
land would be obtained, such as the mere reading of 
books or hearing of lectures would utterly fail to sup- 
ply. And it is my lio])e that by lectures of this kind 
you will be led to aecpiire this knowledge for yourselves 
far more effectually tlian by hearing anything which the 
lectures themselves convey, — and you will have thus 
gained not only knowledge, but interest and amuse- 
ment in the sight of what now seem to be mere stones 



]50 HISTORICAL LESSON OF THE CATHEDRAL. 

or bare walls, but what would then be so many chap- 
ters of English history, so many portraits and pictures 
of famous men and famous events in the successive 
ages of the world. 

Let me, before I begin my inmiediate subject, show 
you very briefly how this may Itc done. First, if any 
one asks why Canterbury is what it is, — why from 
this small town the first subject in this great kingdom 
takes his title, — why we have any cathedral at all, — 
the answer is to be found in that great event, the most 
important that has ever occurred in English history, — 
the conversion of Ethelbert, King of Kent, by the first 
missionary, Augustine. And if you would understand 
this, it will lead you to make out for yourselves the 
history of the Saxon kings, — who they were, whence 
they came, — and who Augustine was, why he came, — 
and what was the city of Kome, whence he was sent 
forth. And then if you enter the cathedral, you will 
find in the tombs which lie within its walls remem- 
brances of almost e\ery reign in the history of England. 
Augustine and the first seven Archbisho])S ure buried 
at St. Augustine's; but from th;it time to the Reforma- 
tion they have, with a ^■ery few exeejitions, been Iniried 
in the cathedral, and even wliere no tomlis iuv. left, the 
places where they were burietl are for the most ])art 
known. And the Archbishops being at that time not 
only the chief ecclesiastics, but also the chief officers (jf 
State in the kingdom, their graves tell you not merely 
the history of the English ch^rgy, but also of the whole 
Commonwealth and States of Kugland besides. It is 
for this reason th;it there is no church, no ])l;ice in the 
kingtlom, with the exce))tion of Westminster Abbey, 
that is so closely connected with the general history of 
our connnon country. The kings before the Ileforma- 



THE TOMBS. 151 

tion are for the most part in the Abbey ; but their 
prime miiiisterp, so to speak, are for the most part in 
Canterbury Cathedral.^ 

Ask who it was that first laid out the monastery, 
and who it was that laid the foundations of the cathe- 
dral as it now stands, and you will find that it was 
Lanfranc, the new Archbishop whom William the Con- 
queror brought over with him from Normandy, and who 
thus re-established the old church with his Norman 
workmen. Then look at the; venerable tower on the 
south side of the cathedral, and ask who lies buried 
within, and from whom it takes its name, and you will 
find yourself witli Anselm, the wise counsellor of Wil- 
liam llufus and Henry I., — Anselm, the great theolo- 
gian, who of all the primates of the See of Canterbury 
is the best known by his life and writings throughout 
the world. And then we come to the most remarkable 
event that has haj)jiene(I ;it Canterl)ury since tlu; ai'ri- 
val of Augustine;, and of wliieh the ell'ect maybe traced 
not in one part only, but almost through every stom; in 
the cathedral, — the murder of Ilecket ; followed by the 
penance of Henry II. aiul tlie long succession of Canter- 
bury pilgrims. Then, in the south aisle, the etligy of 
Hubert Walter brings liefore us tlu; camp of the Cru- 
saders at Acre, where he was ii]>pointed Archbishop by 
liichard I. Next look at that simple tomb in St. Mi- 
chaers Chapel, half in and li;df out of the cliurcli, and 
you will be brought to tiie time of King John ; for it is 
the grave of Stephen Langton, who more than any oni; 

1 Sco Arcliliisliop l';irko)''s rocnrd, (■(iin])ciuli(iiisly <;-i\('ii i'ti I'rofe.s- 
sor Willis'.s History of raiitcrl.iinCnlhrdi;!!, pp. i;i, l.'U. I caiiiiot 
forbear to express a liojie that this series oC iliiistrioiis toiiihs will not 
he needlessly cut short for all future c;encratious hy the recent euact- 
lueut forbidding the interment even of our Archbishops witiiiu their 
own cathedrals. 



152 BIRTH OF THE CLACK PrvIXCE. |1330. 

man won for ns the Magna Charta. Then look back at 
the north transept, at the wooden statue that lies in the 
corner. That is the grave of Archbishop Peckham, in 
the reign of King Edward I. ; and close beside that spot 
King Edward I. was married. And now we come to 
the time at which the subject of my lecture begins, the 
reign of King Edward III. And so we might pass on 
to Archbishop Sudbury, who lost his head in the reign 
of Kichard 11. ; to Henry IV., who lies there himself; 
to Chichele, who takes us on to Henry V. and Henry 
\l. ; to Morton, wlio reminds us of Henry VII. and Sir 
Tliomas More ; to Warham, the friend of Eiasmus, pre- 
decessor of Archbishop Crannier; and then to the sub- 
sequent troubles — of which the cathedral still bears 
the marks — in the Reformation and the Civil Wars. 

On some future occasion, perhaps, I may be permitted 
to speak of the more important of these, as opportunity 
may occur. But for the present let us leave the Pri- 
mates of Canterbury, and turn to our especial subject. 
Let us place ourselves in imagination by the tomb of the 
most illustrious layman who rests among us, Edward 
Plantagenet, Prince of Wales, commonly called the Black 
Prince. Let us ask whose likeness is it that we there see 
stretched before us, — why was he buried in this place, 
amongst the Archbishops and sacred shrines of former 
times, — what can we learn from his life or his death ? 

[1330.] A few words must first be given to his birth 
and childhood. He was born on the 15th of June, 1330, 
at the old palace of Woodstock, near Oxford, from which 
he was sometimes called Prince Edward of Woodstock. ' 
He was, you will remember, the eldest son of King Ed- 
ward III. and Queen Philippa, — a point always to be 
remembered in his history, because, like Alexander the 

^ Archaeoloiria, xxii. 227. 



1342.] EDUCATION AT QUEEN'S COLLEGE. 153 

Great, and a few other eminent instances, he is one of 
those men in whom the peculiar qualities both of his 
father and of his mother w^ere equally exemplified. 
Every one knows the story of the siege of Calais, of 
the sternness of King Edward and the gentleness of 
Queen Philippa ; and it is the union of these qualities 
in their son which gave him the exact place which he 
occupies in the succession of our English princes and 
in the history of Europe. 

We always like to know where a famous man was 
educated. And here we know the place, and also see the 
reason why it was chosen. Any of you who liave been 
at Oxford will remember the long line of buildings which 
overlook the beautiful curve of High Street, — the build- 
ings of " Queen's College," the College of the Queen. At 
the time of which I speak, that college was the great- 
est, — two others only in any regular collegiate form ex- 
isted in Oxford. It had but just lieen founded by tlie 
chaplain of Queen Philippa, and took its name from her. 
There it was that, according to tradition, the Prince of 
Wales, her son, — as in the next generation, Henry V., 
■ — was brought up. [1342.] If we look at the events 
which followed, he could hardly have been twelve years 
old when he \i(ent. But there were then no schools in 
England, and tli^ir place was almost entirely supplied 
by the universities. Queen's College is much altered 
in every way since the little Prince went there ; but 
they still keep an engraving of tlie vaulted room, which 
he is said to have occupied ; ^ and though most of the 
old customs which prevailed in the college, and which 
made it a very peculiar place even then, have long since 
disappeared, some which are mentioned by the founder, 
and which therefore must have been in use when the 

' It now liaiii^s in the gallery above the liall of Queeu'.s College. 



154 EDUCATION AT QUEEN'S COLLEGE [13^2. 

rnnce was there, still continue. You may still hear 
the students summoned to dinner, as he was, by the 
sound of a trumpet ; and in the hall you may still see, 
as he saw, the Fellows sitting all on one side of the 
table, with the Head of the college in the centre, in 
imitation of the " Last Supper," as it is commonly rep- 
resented in pictures.* The very names of the Head 
and the twelve Fellows (the number first appointed by 
the founder, in likeness of our Lord and the Apostles), 
who were presiding over the college when the Prince 
was there, are known to us.^ He must have seen — what 
has long since vanished away — the thirteen beggars, 
deaf, dumb, maimed, or blind, daily brought into the 
hall to receive their dole of bread, beer, pottage, and 
iish.2 Lie must have seen the seventy poor scholars, 
instituted after the example of the seventy disciples, 
and learning from their two chaplains to chant the ser- 
vice.* He must have heard the mill within or hard by 
the college walls grinding the Fellows' bread. He must 
have seen the porter of the college going round the 
rooms betimes in the morning to shave the beards and 
wash the heads of the Fellows.^ In these and many 
other curious particulars, we can tell exactly what the 
customs and appearance of the college were when the 
I'rince was there. Vlt is more difficult to answer another 
question, which we always wish to know about famous 
men, — \Yho were his companions ? An old tradition 
(unfortunately beset with doubts) points to one youth 
at that time in Oxford, and at Queen's College,'' whoni 



' Statutes of Queen's Colloojo, p. IL 

- Ibid , pp. 9, 33. 3 ii,i,i^ p 30 4 ii\a.^ p. 27. 

s Ihid., pp. 28, 29. 

•j For the doubts respecting tlie tradition of the Black Prince and 
of Wycliffe at Queen's College, see Appendix. 



134G.I BATTLE OF CRESSY. 155 

we shall all recognize as an old acquaintance, — John 
Wyclih'e, the Hrst English lieformer, and the first trans- 
lator of the Bible into English. He would have been 
a poor boy, in a threadbare coat,^ and devoted to study, 
and the Prince probably never exchanged looks or words 
with him. J Jut we shall be glad to be allowed to believe 
tliat once at least in their lives the great soldier of the 
age had crossed the path of the great lieformer. Each 
thought and cared little for the other ; their characters 
and pursuits and sympathies were as different as were 
their stations in life. Let us be thankful if we have 
learned to understand them both, and see what was 
good in each, far better than they did themselves. 

We now pass to the next events of his life; those, 
which have really made him almost as famous in war 
as Wycliffe has been in peace, — the two great battles 
of Cressy and of Poitiers. I will not now go hito the 
origin of the war of which these two battles formed 
the turning-points It is enough for us to remem- 
ber that it was undertaken by Edward IIL to gain the 
crown of Erance, — a claim, through his mother, which 
he had solemnly relinciuislied, l)ut which he now re- 
sumed to satisfy the scruples of his allies, the citizens 
of Ghent, who thought that their oath of allegiance 
to the " King of France" would be redeemed if their 
leader did l)ut bear the name. 

[1346.] And now first for Cressy. I shall not un- 
dertake to descril)e the whole fight, but will call your 
attention briefiy to the questions which every one ought 
to ask himself, if he wishes to understand anything 
about any battle whatever. Eirst, Where was it fought? 
secondly, Why was it fought ? thirdly, How was it won ? 
and fourthly, What was the result of it ? And to this 

1 See Chaucer's de.scriiition of tlie Oxford Clerk. 



156 BATTLE OF CRESSY. [i.uti. 

I nmst add, in the present instance, What part was 
taken in it by the Prince, whom we left as a little boy 
at Oxford, but who was now following his father as a 
young knight in his iirst great campaign ? The first 
of these questions involves the second also. If we 
make out wliere a battle was fought, this usually tells 
us why it was fought; and this is one of the many 
proofs of the use of learning geography together with 
history. Each helps us to understand the other. Ed- 
ward had ravaged Normandy and reached the very 
gates of Paris, and was retreating towards Elanders 
when he was overtaken by the French king, I'hilip, 
who with an immense army had determined to cut 
him off entirely, and so put an end to the war.^ With 
difficulty and by the happy accident of a low tide, he 
crossed the mouth of the Somme, and found himself 
in his own maternal inheritance of Ponthieu, and for 
tliat special reason encamped near the forest of Cressy, 
fifteen miles east of Abbeville: "I am," he said, "on 
the right heritage of Madam my mother, which was 
given her in dowry ; I will defend it against my adver- 
sary, Philip of Valois." It was Saturday, the 28th of 
Auiiust, 1346, and it was at four in the afternoon that 



1 See the interestiiiEj details of tlie l>attle, in " ArcliEeologia," vol. 
xxviii., taken from records in the Town Hall at Al)l)eville. The scene 
of the hattle has been the snhject of ninch controversy. An able though 
prejudiced attack on tlie traditional field is contained in a Memoir on 
the subject by M. Ambert, a French officer (Sjjectateur Militaire, 184.5, 
Paris, Rue Jacob, .30), which has been in turn impugned, as it seems 
to me with good reason, in the third edition of M. Seymour de Con- 
stant's EssMv on the same subject. It is possible that the local tradi- 
tions may be groundless, but I never saw any place (out of Scotlanil) 
■where the recollection of a past event had struck such root in iIk; 
minds of the peasantry. M. Ambert represents the event, not as a 
battle, but as " un accident social," "un e've'uement polititpie et social," 
" un choc," " une crise revolutionuaire." 



1J46.; BATTLE OF CKES8V. 157 

the battle commenced. It always helps us Letter to 
imagine any remarkable event, when we know at what 
time of the day or night it took place ; and on this 
occasion it is of great importance, because it helps us 
at once to answer the third question we asked, — How 
was the battle won ? The French army had advanced 
from Abbeville after a hard day's march to overtake 
the retiring enemy. All along the road, and flooding 
the hedgeless plains which bordered the road, the 
army, swelled by the surrounding peasantry, rolled 
along, crying, " Kill! kill!" drawing their swords and 
thinking that they were sure of their prey. What the 
French King chiefly relied upon (besides his great 
numbers) was the troop of flfteen thousand cross-bow- 
men from CJ-enoa. These were made to stand in front ; 
when, just as the engagement was al)out to take place, 
one of those extraordinary incidents occurred, which 
often turn the fate of battles, as they do of human life 
in general. A tremendous storm gathered from the 
west, and broke in thunder and rain and hail on the 
field of battle. The sky was darkened, and the horror 
was increased by the hoarse cries of crows and ra- 
vens, which fluttered before the storm, and struck terror 
into the hearts of the Italian bowmen, who were un- 
accustomed to these northern tempests. And when at 
last the sky had cleared, and they prepared their cross- 
bows to shoot, the strings had been so wet l)y the rain 
that they could not draw them. By this time the 
evening sun streamed out in full splendor ^ over the 
black clouds of the western sky, — right in their faces ; 
and at the same moment the English archers, who had 
kept their bows in cases during the storm, and so had 

1 "A sun issuing from a cloud was tlie l>a(]gc of tlie Black rriucc, 
probably from this occurreiife." — Arclucohxjia, xx. 106. 



158 BATTLK OF CRESSY. [1346. 

their .strings dry, let Hy their arrows so fast and thick, 
that those who were present coukl only compare it to 
snow or sleet. Through and through the heads and 
necks and hands of the Genoese bowmen the arrows 
pierced. Unable to stand it, they turned and fled ; 
and from that moment the panic and confusion was 
so great that the day was lost. 

But though the storm and the sun and the archers 
had their part, we must not forget the Prince. He 
was, we must remember, only sixteen, and yet he com- 
manded the whole English army. It is said that the 
reason of this was that the King of France had been 
so bent on destroying the English forces that he had 
hoisted the sacred banner of France ^ — the great scar- 
let flag, embroidered with golden lilies, called the Ori- 
flamme — as a sign that no quarter would be given; 
and that when King Edward saw this, and saw the 
hazard to which he sliould expose not only the army, 
but the whole kingdom, if he were to fall in battle, he 
determined to leave it to his son. On the top of a 
windmill, of which the solid tower still is to be seen 
on the ridge overhanging the field, the king, for what- 
ever reason, remained bareheaded, whilst the young 
Prince, who had been knighted^ a month before, went 
forward with his companions in rrins into the very 
thick of the fray ; and when his father saw that the 
victory was virtually gained, he forbore to interfere. 
" Let the child Kin his spurs" he said, in words which 
have since become a proverb, " and Id the day he his." 
The Prince was in very great danger at one moment ; 

^ Tlic Oriflamme of France, liko the fjjreen Standard of the Prophet 
in the Turkish Fjiipire, had the effect of deelarinjj tlie war to be what 
was called a " Holy War," — that is, a war of extermination. 

2 Archaeolosria, xxxi. 3. 



..Ufi.f NAMP] OF "BLACK I'KINCE." I.IO 

lie was wounded and thrown to the ground, and 
only saved by liichard de Beaumont, who carried the 
great banner of Wales, throwing the banner over the 
boy as he lay on the ground, and standing upon it till 
he had driven back the assailants.^ The assailants 
were driven back, and far through the long sununer 
evening and deep into the sununer night the battle 
raged. It was not till all was dark, that the Prince 
and his companions halted from their pursuit; and 
then huge fires and torches were lit up, that the king 
might see where they were. And then took place the 
touching interview between the father and the son ; the 
king embracing the boy in front of the whole army, 
by the red light of the blazing tires, and saying, " Siccet 
suit, (lod give yun ;/uod 2)<^rscvcrancc ; you are my true 
son, — r/yht loyally have you acquitted yourself tltis day, 
a ltd trorthy arc you of a crown" And the young Prince, 
after the reverential manner of those times, "bowed 
to the ground, and gave all the honor to the king his 
father." The next day the king walked over the field 
of carnage with the Prince, and said, " Wliat think you 
of a battle ? Is it an agrecahle game ? " ^ 

Tlie general result of the battle was tlie deliverance 
of the English army from a most imminent danger, 
and subsequently the conquest of Calais, which tlie 
king immediately besieged and won, and which re- 
mained in the possession of the English from that day 
to the reign of Queen Mary. Erom that time the 
Prince became tlie darling of the English and the ter- 
ror of the Erench ; and whether from this terror or 
from the black armor which he wore on that day,'"^ 

1 Archaeologia, xxxviii. 184. Ihul., 187, 

3 Tlie kin<;^ dressed liis sdii iictorc tlic liattlr • eii .irimire noire en 
fer brimi." See Louaiuhe s lli.stuire d Abbeville, p. 2.'30. 



160 BATTLE OF rOlTIEUS. [i:356. 

and which contrasted with the fairness of his com- 
plexion, he was called by them " Le Prince Noir" (the 
Black Prince)/ and from them the name has passed 
to us ; so that all his other sounding titles, by which 
the old poems call him, — "Prince of Wales, Duke of 
Aquitaine," — are lost in the one memorable name 
which he won for himself in his first fight at Cressy. 
[1356.] And now we pass over ten years, and find 
him on the field of Poitiers. Again we must ask, 
what brought him there, and why the battle was 
fought. He was this time alone ; his father, thougli 
the war had rolled on since the battle of Cressy, was in 
England. But in other respects the beginning of the 
light was very like that of Cressy. Gascony belonged 
to him by right, and from this he made a descent into 
the neighboring provinces, and was on his return home, 
when the King of France — John, the son of Philip — 
pursued him as his father had pursued Etlward III., 
and overtook him suddenly on the liigli upland fields 
which extended for many miles south of the city of 
Poitiers. It is the third great battle which has been 
fought in that neighborhood : the first was that in 
which Clovis defeated the Gotlis, and established the 
faith in the creed of Athanasius throughout Europe ; 
tlie second was that in which Charles Martel drove 
])ack the Saracens, and saved Europe from ]\Iahoni- 
etanism ; the third was this, — the most brilliant of 
English victories over the Frencli.- The 8])ot, which is 

1 See p. 177; also his Will ( Appendix, p. 197), whore he speaks of the 
hlack drapery of his " hall," the lilack banners, and the black devices 
which lie used in tournaments. We may compare, too, the black pony 
upon wliich he rode on his famous entry into London. (Froissart.) 

■^ Tlie battle of Clovis is believed to have been at \''oulon, on the 
road to Bordeaux; that of Charles Martel is uncertain. The.'^e three 
battles (with that of Moncontour, fought not far off, in 1569, after 



msG] BATTLE OF POITIERS. 161 

about six miles south of I'oiticrs, is still known by the 
name of tlie Battle-lield. Its features are very slightly 
marked, — two ridges of rising ground, parted by a gen- 
tle hollow ; behind the highest of these two ridges is 
a large tract of copse and underwood, and leading up 
to it from the hollow is a somewhat steep lane, there 
shut in by woods and vines on each side. It was on 
this ridge that the I'rince had taken up his position, 
and it was solely by the. good use which he made of 
this position that the victory was won. The French 
army was arranged on the otlun- side of the holhjw in 
three great divisions, of which the king's was the hind- 
most ; the farm-house which marks tlie spot when^ this 
division was posted is visible from the walls of I'oitiers. 
It was on Monday, Sept. 19, 1356, at nine a. m., that 
the battle began. All the Sunday had been taken xi\) 
liy fruitless endeavors of Cardinal Talleyrand to save 
tlie bloodshed by liriiiging the king and Trince to 
terms, — a fact to be noticed for two reasons: iirst, be- 
cause it shows the sincere and Christian desire which 

til,. sic,-c ..r TnitiiTs, l.y Admiral C()li^-;-tiy) are well (InscrilKMl \,y M. S. 
llippiilytc, ill a iiiiiiilicr ol' tliu " S|)cetatoiir Militaire." For my ac- 
(liiaiutaiH'e witli tliis work, as well a.s for any details wliich follow 
relatincf to the liattle, I am iiidei)tcd to tiie kindness and courte.'«y 
of M. Foueart, of Poitiers, in whose company I visited the field of 
battle in the summer of 1851. The site of the field has been mnch- 
contested liy antii|uaries, Imt now a])])c;irs to lie fi.xed beyond dispnte. 
'I'he battle is said U> have lieeu fonj^lit -'at ]\Ianpcrtnis, between 
P.eanv.iir and the Alilicy of Nonille." There is a ]ilace called Man- 
jicrtuis near a village Beauvoir, on the north of Poitiers, which has 
led some to transfer the battle tin'llier ; but besides the general argu- 
ments, both from tradition and from the ]irobaliilities of the case in 
favor of the southern site, tjii^rc is a i\cvd in the municijial arciii\es 
of Poitiers, in which the farni-linnse now called La C'ardiniere (from 
its owner Cardina, to whom it was gnmtcd liy Louis XIV., like many 
estates in the neighborhood called fr(jm their owners) is said to be 
"olios Maupertuis." The fine (iothic ruin of the Abbey of Nouillo 
also remains, a quarter of an hour's walk from the field, 
11 



102 BATTl.E OF POITIERS. ri"''C. 

animated the clergy of those times, in the midst of all 
their faults, to promote peace and good-will amongst 
the savage men with whom they lived ; and seeondly, 
because the refusal of the French King and Prince to 
ue persuaded shows, on this occasion, the contidence of 
victory which had possessed them. 

The Prince ottered to give up all the castles and 
prisoners he had taken, and to swear not to light in 
France again for seven years. Put the king would 
hear of nothing but his absolute surrender of himself 
and his army on the sjiot. The Cardinal lalmred till 
the very last moment, and then rode back t(i Poitiers, 
having equally ofi'endrd both parties. The story of the 
battle, if we renunnbcr the ])osition of the armies, is 
told in a moment. The Prince remained lirm in his 
position ; the French charged with their usual chival- 
rous ardor, — charged up the lane; the English arch- 
ers, whom tlie I'rince had stationed behind the hedges 
on each side, let tly their sliowcrs of r.rrows, as at 
Cressy ; in an instant the lane was choked with the 
dead ; and the iirst check of such hcadsti'ong confi- 
dence was fatal. Here, as at Cressy, was exemplified 
the truth of the remark of the mediaeval historian, — 
"We now no longer contest our battles, as did the 
Greeks and Eomans ; the first stroke decides all."^ 
The Prince in his turn charged: a general panic seized 
the wdiole French army ; the first and second division 
fled in the wildest confusion ; the third alone, where 
King John stood, made a gallant resistance; the king 
was taken prisoner, and by noon the whole was over. 
Up to the gates of the town of Poitiers the French 
army fled and fell ; and their dead bodies were buried by 
heaps within a convent which still remains in the city. 

^ Laiionc, quoted in }.l. Aniljcrt's r.lLiaoir on C'l-ess}, p. 14. 



1.356.] BATTLE OF POITIERS. 163 

It was a wonderful day. It was eight thousaml ti) .sixty 
thousand; the Prince, who had gained the battle, was 
still only twenty-six, — that is, a year younger than 
Napoleon at the beginning of his campaigns, — and the 
battle was distinguished from among all others by the 
number not of tlie slain but of the prisoners, — one 
Englishman often taking fcjur or five Frenchmen.^ 

"The day of the liatlle at night, the I'rince gave a 
supper in his lodgings to the French King, and to 
most of the gr.'at lords that were prisonei'S. The 
I'rince caused the king and his son to sit at one table, 
and other lords, knights, and squires at the others ; and 
the Prince always served the king very humbly, and 
would not sit at the king's table although he re([uested 
him, — he said he was not (jualitied to sit at tlie table 
with so great a prince as the king was. Then he said 
to tlie king :' .Sir, for (lod's sake make no bad cheer, 
though your will was not accomplish(Ml this day. ]'^jr, 
Sir, the king, my lather, will certainly bestow on you 
as much honor and friendship as he can, and will agree 
with you so reasonably that you shall ever afte-r be 
friends ; and. Sir, I think you ought to rejoice, though 
the battle be not as you will, fur you have this day 
gained the high honor of prowess, and lun'c surpassed 
all others on your side in valor. Sir, I say not this in 
raillery ; for all our i)arty, who saw every man's deeds, 
agree in this, and give you the })alm and chajilct.' 

1 vSee tlie despatch aildressed by the I>l:u-k rriiicc to tlie nisliuji of 
Worcester a iiioiitli after the eng-ageineiit. (Anliadlo,i;ia, i. ::il.';.) it 
winds up with a list of prisoners, and finishes thus: — 

" Et sont ])ris, etc., des gentz d'armes im.ixc.xxxiii. — Gaudctc in 
Domino 
Et (jutre sont niortz m:\iccccxxvi. Iteruni dieo Gaudete ! " 

It is remarkable that he notices that he liad set out on his expedi- 
tion on the eve of the Translation of Saint Thomas. 



164 TllK PKIXCK VISITS CANTEUCUKY. ll.'5r,7. 

Theivwitli the Freiicluueii whispered auimig theiii3elvi!,s 
that the I'liiice had .sjiokeu nubly, and that must piob- 
ably he would prove u ^reat hero, if (Jod preserved his 
life, to persevere m such good fortune." 

It was after this great battle that we first hear of the 
I'rinee's connection with Canterbury. There is, it is 
true, a strange contradiction ^ l»et\\eeu the Knglish and 
French historians as to the spot of the I'rinee's land- 
ing and the course of his suliscipuMit journey. lUit tiie 
usual story, as told ])y l-'roissart, is as follows : — 

[loo?.] On the Kith of April, i;'..")?, the Prince 
with the French King landed at Sandwich; there, they 
stayed two days, and on the I'.lth entered Canterbury. 
Simon of Islip was jiow Archbishop, and he probably 
would 1)e there to greet them. The French King, if we 
uiay su]ipose that the same coui'se was adopted here 
as when they reached Fondon, rode on a magnificent 
(U'eam-colored charger, the Prince on a little black })ony 
at his side. They came into the cathedral, and made 
their oiTeriugs at the slirine of St. Thomas. Tradition^ 
says, but without any ])robabiHty of truth, that the 
old room aliove St. Anselm's Chapel was used as King 
John's ])rison. He may possibly have seen it, Imt he is 
hardly likely to have lived there. At any rale, tliey 
were only here for a d;iy, and then again advanced on 
their road to Fondon. One other tradition we mny 
perhaps connect with this visit. Behind the hospital 
at Harbledowu is an old well, still called " The Flack 
i'rinee's AVell." If tliis is the only time that he passed 
through Canterbury, — and it is the only time that we 
hear of, — then we may suppose that in the steep road 

1 Soe A]ipeii(lix. 

2 Gustii ;:;;■'« V.'iillis about C:;;;tcrl:ury, ]i. 2C:). For liLs lutcr vi.sic 
to Cautcrbui'V, sec " Ecchct's L'liriiie." 



13G3.] THE PRINCE'S MARRIAGE. 165 

underneath the hospital he haUed, as we know that all 
pilj^rinis did, to see IJecket's shoe, which was kept in 
the hospital, and that he ihay have gone down on tlu; 
other side of the hill to wash, as others did, in the 
water of the spring ; and we may well snp])ose that 
sueli an occasion wouhl never he forgotten, and that 
his name would live long afterwards in the memory of 
the old almsmen. 

[1363.] Canterbury, however, had soon a more sub- 
stantial connection with the lUack Prince. In 1363 
]\('. married his cousin Joan in the chapel at Windsor; 
whicli witnessed no other royal wedding till that beau- 
tiful and touching day which witnessed the union of 
our own Prince of Wales with the I'rincess Alexamlra 
of Denmark. Of these nuptials lulward the lilack 
Prince left a memorial in the lieautiful chapel still to 
be seen in the crypt of the cathedral, where two 
priests were to ]>ray for his soul, first in his lifetime, 
and also, according to the practice of those times, after 
his death. It is now, l)y a strange turn of fortune 
which adds another link to th(_> historical interest of the 
place, the entrance to the clia})el of the French con- 
gregati-on, — the descendant-; of the very nation whom 
he conquered at Poitiers; but you can still trace the 
situation of the two altars ^vhere his priests stood, and 
on the groined vaultings you can sec his arms ar.d 
tlie arms of his father, and, in coiiiieetion with the joy- 
ful event, in thankfuhiess for wliieli he fouii(l"d the 
chapel, what seems to be the i'aee of his l)eautiful wih', 
commonly known as the l-'air Maid of Kent. For the 
permission to found this clianlry, h(^ left to the Clia])ter 
of Canterbury an estate which still belongs to them, 
not far from his own Palace of Kennington and from 
the road still called the " Prince's Poad," — the manor 



IGG SPANISH CAMPAIGN. [1366. 

of " Fawkes' Hall." This ancient namesake of the more 
celebrated Guy was, as we learn from legal records, a 
powerful baron in the reign of John, and received from 
that king a grant of land in South Lambeth, where he 
built a hall or mansion-house, called from him " Fawkes' 
Hall," or " La Salle de Fawkes." He would have little 
thought of the strange and universal fame his house 
would acquire in the form in which we are now so 
familiar with it in the gardens, the factories, the bridge, 
and the railway station of Vauxhall} 

[1366.] And now we have to go again over ten years, 
and we find the Prince engaged in a war in Spain, help- 
ing Don Pedro, King of Spain, against his brother. But 
this would take us too far away, — 1 will only say that 
here also he won a most brilliant victory, the battle of 
Nejara, in 1367 ; and it is interesting to remember that 
the first great commander (if the English armies had a 
peninsular war to light as well as the last, and that the 
flower of English chivalry led his troops through the 
pass of lioncesvalles, 

" Where Charlemagne and all his peerage fell," 

in th(! days of the old romances, 

[1370.] Once again, then, we pass over ten years 
(for by a singular coincidence, which has been observed 
l)y others, the life of the Prince thus naturally di- 
vides itself), and we find ourselves at the end, — at 
that last scene, which is in fact the main connection of 
the Black Prince with Canterbury. The expedition to 
Spain, though accompanied by one splendid victory had 
ended disastrously. From that moment the fortunes 
of the Prince were overcast. A Ion" and wasting ill- 



1 See Appendix. For the lii.-sforv of Fawkes, see Foss's Judges 
ii. 2.')6 ; ArclKvologioal Journal, iv. 'J75. 



1.37(;.] Ills Ari'KAUANCE IN I'AKLIAMKNT. 1G7 

ness, which lie contracted in the soutliern climate of 
Spain, hrdke down his constitution ; a rebellion occa- 
sioned l)y his own wastefulness, which was one of the 
faults of his character, burst forth in his French j^rov- 
inces ; his father was now sinking in years, and sur- 
rounded liy unworthy favorites, — such was the state in 
which the Triiice returned for the last time to England. 
For four years he lived in almost entire seclusion at 
Berkhamstead, in preparation for his approaching end ; 
often he fell into long fainting-fits, which his attendants 
mistook for death. One of the traditions which con- 
nects his name witli the well at Harl)ledown speaks of 
his luiving had the water ^ bi'ought thence to him as he 
lay sick — or, according to a nmre common but ground- 
less story, dying — in the Archbishop's ])alace at Can- 
terl)ury. Oner. nu)re, however, his youthful energy, 
tluMigh in a tlitl'erent form, shot up in an expiring tlame. 
His father, I have said, was sinking into dotage; and 
the favorites of the court were taking advantage of him, 
to waste the public money, rarhiuneiit met, — I'ar- 
liament, as you must renuunber, unlike the two great 
Houses which now sway the destiny of the empire, but 
still feeling its way towaids its present powers, — I'arlia- 
nuiut met to cheek tbis growing evil ; and tiien it was 
that when they look"d lound in vain for a leader to guide 
their counsels and support their wavering resolutions, 
the dying I'riiu'e came foith from his long retirenu'ut, 
and was carried up to Lombm, to assist liis country in 
this time of its utmost ni'cd. His own residence was 
a ])alace which st(jod nn what is now called Fish Street 
Hill, the street o)>posite the London j\lonunient. But 

1 TIhto is no .luulit, IliaMhc well lias Mlwn.vs 1,i-(mi snp|,us<.,l to pos- 
sess niiMliciiial (|iialilics, ;ni(l tins was ]irol)al.ly tlic cause of Laiit'rane's 
selectictii ol' tliat spot foi' liis Icprr-liuiise. 



163 HIS DEATHBED. [157C. 

lie would not rest there ; he was brought to the Iloyal 
Palace of Westminster, that he might be close at hand 
to be carried from his sick-bed to the Parliament, which 
met in the chambers of the palace. This was on the 
2Sth of April, 1376. The spirit of the Parliament and 
the nation revived as they saw him, and the purpose for 
which he came was accomplished. Put it was his last 
el'fort. Day by day his strength ebbed away, and he 
never again moved from the palace at Westminster. 
On the 7th of June he signed his will, by which, as we 
shall presently see, directions were given for his funeral 
and tomb. On the Stli he rapidly sank. The begin- 
ning of his end cannot l)e lietter told than in the words 
(if the herald Chandos, who had attended him in all his 
wars, and who was probably present: — 

" TIiou tlie Prince caused liis clianihors to l)e opened 
And all his followers to como in, 
AVlio in his time had served him, 
And served Iiim witli a free will ; 
' Sii-s,' said he, ' pardon me ; 
Vnr, hy the faith I owe von. 
You have served me loyally, 
Though I cannot of my nKums 
l^entler to eacii his gnenk)n; 
But Ciod hy his most holy name 
And saints, will render it you.' 
'i'hen each wept heartily 
And mourned right teuderly. 
All wlio were there present, 
Earl, l)aron, and hachelor ; 
'J'lien he said in a clear voice, 
' I recommend to you my son, 
Who is yet l)ut young and small, 
And pray that as you served me, 
So from your heart yon wonhl serve him.' 
Then he called the King his lather, 
And the Duke of Lancaster his lirulhcr. 
And commended to them his wile, 
And his son, whom he greatly loved, 
And stvaightwav entreated them; 



13::..] HIS DEATHBED. 1()9 

Anil eai'li \va.-< willing to oive lii,-; aiti, 

Kacii swuie iipun tlie book, 

And tliey i)njnii!sed hiin iroely 

That they would comfort his son 

And maintain him in his rigiit ; 

All the princes and harous 

ISworc all runnil to this, 

And the noble Prince of fame 

Gave them an hundred thousand thanks. 

]5nt till then, so God aiil me. 

Never was seen such hitter grief 

As was at his departure. 

The right noble excellent Prince 

Felt such pain at heart, 

That it almost burst 

With moaning and sighing, 

And crying out in his ])ain 

So great suffering did ho endure. 

That tliere was no (nan living 

Who liad seen his agony, 

But would heartily have pitied him." ' 

111 this last agony lie was, as lie had hcen through 
life, specially attentive to the wants of his servants 
and dependant^,; and after liaving made them large 
gifts, he called liis little son to his l)edside, and charged 
liim on ])ain of his curse never to take them away from 
them as long as he lived. 

The doors still reniaiiuHl open, and his attendants 
were constantly })assing and r(>-passing, down to the 
least page, to see their dying master. Such a deathhed 
had hardly been seen since the army of Alexander the 
Clreat defiled through his room during his last illness. 
As the day wore away, a scene occurred which showed 
how even at tliat niDment the stern spirit of his fa- 
tlier still lived on in liis sliattered frame. A knight, Sir 

1 Chandos's Poem of th'^ P.hnk Piince, ediled and translated for 
the Koxl.urghe Club by the Pev. II. <). Coxe, Sub-librarian of the Bod- 
leian Library at Oxford. May I tnke this opportnuitv of ex])rossing 
my grateful sense of his assistance on this and on all other occasions 
when I have had the pleasure of referring to him ' 



170 EXORCISM BY THE UISIIOI' OF BANCiOU. [1370. 

liic'liard Strong by name, who had offended liini by the 
evil counsel he had given to the king, came in with 
the rest. Instantly the Prince broke out into a harsh 
rebuke, and tuld him to leave the room and see his 
face no more. This burst of passion was too much for 
him, — he sank intit a, fainting-Ht. The end was evi- 
dently near at hand ; and the Hishop of Uangor, who 
was standing by the bedside of the dying man, struck 
perhaps by the scene which had just occurred, strongly 
exhorted him from the bottom of his heart to forgive 
all liis enemies, and ask forgiveness of Clod and of men. 
The Prince replied, " I will." Put tlie good Bishop was 
not so to be satisfied. Again he urged: "It suffices 
not to say only 'I will;' but where you have power, 
you ought to declare it in words, and to ask pardt)n." 
Again and again the Prince doggedly answered, " I 
will." The Bishop was deeply grieved, and in the be- 
lief of those times, of which we may still admire the 
spirit, though the form both of his act and expression 
lias long since passed away, he said, "An evil spirit 
holds his tongue, — we must drive it away, or he will 
die in his sins;" and so saying, he sprinkled holy 
water over the four coriu^rs of the room, and com- 
manded the evil s])irit to de]iart. 'J'lie I'rince nris 
vexed by an evil spirit, though not in the sense in 
wliieh the good liisliop meant it; he was vexed by the 
e\il spirit of bitter revenge, wliieh was the curse of 
those feudal times, and which now, thank (!od, though 
it still lingers amongst us, has ceased to haunt those 
nobl(> souls which then were its especial prey. That 
evil s])irit did depart, though not perhaps by the means 
then used to expel it ; the Christian words of the 
good man had produced their effect, and in a moment 
the Prince's whole look and manner was altered. He 



!376.] HIS DEATH. 171 

joined liis hands, lifted up liis eyes to lieaven, and said: 
" I give tliee thanks, O God, for all thy benefits, and 
with all the pains of my soul I humbly beseech thy 
mercy to give me remission of those sins I have wick- 
edly committed against thee ; aud of all mortal men 
whom willingly or ignorantly I have offended, with 
all my heart I desire forgiveness." With these words, 
which seem to have been the last effort of exhausted 
nature, he immediately expired.^ 

It was at three i\ M., on Trinity Sunday, — a festival 
which he had always honored with especial reverence ; 
it was on the Sth of June, just one month before his 
l»irlliday, in his forty-sixth year, — the same age which 
has closed the career of so many illustrious men both 
in peace and war, — that the Llack Prince breathed his 
last. 

Far and wide the mourning spread when the news 
was known. Even amongst his enemies, in the beauti- 
ful cliapel of the palace of the French kings, — called 
the Sainte Chapelle, or Holy Chapel, — funeral services 
were celel)rated by King Louis, son of that King Jolni 
whom he had taken prisoner at Poitiers. ]\Iost dee[)ly, 
of course, was the loss felt in his own family and circle, 
of which he had been so long the ])ridc and ornament. 
His comjianion in arms, the ("aptal dc Unch, was so 
heart-broken that he refused to take any food, and in 
a few days died of starvation and grief. His father, 
already shaken in strengtli and years, never recovered 
the blow, and lingered on oidy for one more year. 

"Mi.-lit,v virtor, nii-htv Innl,— 
Low (i!i liis fuiier.-il cinirli lie lies. 
Is the Silhle \v:irri()r tied ? 

Tliv SOU is ooiip. He rests ainoiig the dead." 
1 AiTha'ologia, xxii. 22'J. 



172 MOURxMXG. [137G. 

lUit most striking was the mourning of the whole 
English nation. Seldom, if ever, has the death of one 
man so deeply struck the sympathy of the English 
people. Our fathers saw the mourning of the whole 
country over the Princess Charlotte, and the great fu- 
nernl proce.ssion which conveyed the remains of Nel- 
son to their resting place in St Paul's, — we ourselves 
have seen the deep grief over the sudden death of our 
most illustrious statesman, — we know what is the 
feeling with which we should at this moment^ regard 
the loss of the great commander who perhaps more 
than any other single person has tilled in our niinds 
the place of the Black Prince. But in oider to ap- 
preciate the mourning of the people, when Edward 
Plantagenet passed away, we must combine all these 
feelings. He was the cherished heir to the throne of 
England, and Ids untimely death would leave the crown 
in the hands of a child, — the prey, as was afterwards 
proved, to popular seditions and to ambitious rivals. 
He was tlie great soldier, "in whose health the hopes 
of Englishmen had .flourished, in whose distress they 
had languished, in whose death they had died. In his 
life they had feared no invasion, no encounter in battle; 
he went ngainst no army that lie did not conquer, lie at- 
tacked no city that he did not take," and now to whom 
were they to look ? 'JMie last time they had seen him 
in public was as the champion of popular rights against 
a proHigate court, as fearless in the House of Parlia- 
ment as he had been on the field of battle. And yet 
more, he died at a moment when all was adverse and 
threatening, — when all was l)lank in the future, and 

• Tliis was written in June, 1S.")2, and (witli all tliat folluws) lias 
hocn Icl't unaltered. The coincideni-cs with what actually tuuk jilace 
in the aiitnnin of that year will (iccnr to every one. 



1370.1 iiLs funi<:ral. 173 

that future was dark with cloud aud sturin. Juhu 
WycliHe, with whuui wc parted at Oxford thirty years 
ago, had already begun tu pruclaiui those great changes 
which shook to their centre the institutions of the 
country. There were mutterings, too, of risings in 
classes hitherto not thought of, — Wat 'J'yler and Jack 
Cade were already on the horizon of Kent and of I'^ng- 
land ; and in the ri\alry of the king's sons, now left 
without an\acknowledged chief, were already laid the 
S(!eds of the long and dreadful wars of the houses of 
York and Lancaster. 

It is by renieui])ering tliese feelings that we shall 
best enter into the chising scene, witli which we are 
here so lu'arly connect. d. 

For nearly four months — fr(jin the 8th of dune to 
the 2'Jth of i^'eptendter — the collined boily lay in state 
at Westminster, and then, as soon as rarlianuuit met 
again, as usual in those times, on tlie festival of 
Michaelmas, was Ijrought to (janterl»ury. It was laid 
in a stately hearse, drawn l)y twelve l)lack horses; and 
the whole Court, and lioth lunises of rarliament fol- 
lowed in deep mourning. Tlie great iirocession started 
from Westminster Talace ; it pas.sed through what 
was then the little village of Charing, clustered in the 
midst of the open fields of St. IMartin, round Queen 
Eleanor's Cross. It passed along the Strand, by the 
houses of the great nobles, who had so often fought 
side by side with him in his wars; and the Savoy 
Palace, where twenty years before he had lodged the 
French King as his prisoner in triumph. Tt passed un- 
der the shade of tlie lofty tower of the old cathedral 
of St. Paul's, which had so often resounded with Te 
Deums for his victories. It descended the steep hill, 
overhung by the gray vails of his own palace, above 



174 HIS FUNERAL. [l.JTC. 

London Briuge ; and over that ancient brid<.>e. then the 
only bridge in London, it moved onwards on its road 
to Canterbury, — that same road wliich at this very 
time had become so well known from Chaucer's " Can- 
terbury Tales." 

On entering Canterbury they paused at the west gate 
of Canterbury, — not the one which now stands there, 
wliich was built a few years later, — liut an older gate- 
way, with the little chapel of Holycro.ss at the top, sur- 
mounted by a lofty cross, seen far off, as the procession 
descended from Harbledown. Here they were met — 
so the I'rince had desired in his will ^ — by two chargers, 
fully caparisoned, ami mmuited by two riders in com- 
plete armor, — one bearing the I'rince's arms of Eng- 
land and France, the otlier the ostrich feathers; one 
to represent the Prince; in his splendid suite as he rode 
in war, the other to represent him in l>lack as he rode 
to tournaments. Four Idack banners tollowed. So tlu^y 
passed through the streets of the city, till they reached 
the gate of the Precincts. Here, according to the cus- 
tom, tlie armed men ^ halted, and the body was carried 
into the cathedral. Li the space between the high altar 
and the choir a bier was ])laced to receive it, whilst the 
funeral services were read, surrounded with ))urniiig ta- 
pers and with all the heraldic ijomi) which marked his 
title and rank. It must have be en an august assemblage 
which took ]tart in those funeral prayers. The aged 
king, in all probability, was not there, l)ut we cannot 
doubt that the executors were present. One was his ri- 
val brother John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. Another 
was liis long-tried friend, William of Wykeham, liishop 
of Winchester, whose name is still dear to hundreds of 

^ See Appendix. 

- See Murder of Becket, pp. 99, 104, 118. 



HIS TOMB. 



175 



Englishmen, old and young, from the two magnifieent 
colleges which he founded at Winchester and at < ).\f(a(l. 
A third was Courtenay, Bishop of London; who now lies 
at the Prince's feet, and 
Simon of Sudljury, who 
had heen Archliishoi) of 
Canterbury in the }>revi- 
ous years, — he wliose 
magnificent bequests still 
appear in tliQ gates and 
walls of the city, — he 
whose fate it was to be 
the first to sufi'er in the 
troubles which the 
Prince's death would 
cause, who was beheaded 
by the rebels under Wat 
Tyler on the Tower Hill, 
and whose burial was the 
next great funeral within 
the walls of the cathe- 
dral. And now, from the 
choir, the body was again 
raised up, and carried to 
the tomb. 

We have seen already 
that twelve years before 
the Prince had turned 
his thoughts to Canter- 
bury Cathedral as his 
last home, when in remembrance of his visit to the 
shrine of St. Thomas, and of the fact that the church 
was dedicated to the Holy Trinity, which, as we have 
seen, he had honored with especial reverence, he 




'"'^ °T»' 



THE TOMB OF THE BLACK PRINCE IN 
CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL. 



17G Ills TOMB. 

fouiuled the chapel in the crypt. In the centre of 
that crypt, on the spot where you now see the j^rave- 
stone of Archbishop Morton, it had been his wish to 
be laid, as expres.scd in the wdl which he signed only 
the day before his death. lUit those who were con- 
cerned with the funeral had pre})ared for him a more 
magnificent resting-place ; not in the darkness of the 
crypt, but high aloft in the sacred space behind the al- 
tar, and on the south side of the shrine of .St. lliomas, 
in the chapel itself of the Holy Trinity, on the festival 
of which he had expired, they determined that the body 
of the hero should be laid. That space is now sur- 
rounded with monuments ; then it was entirely, or 
almost entirely, vacant.^ The gorgeous shiine stood in 
the centre on its colored pavement, but no other corpse 
liad been admitted within that venerated ground, — no 
(ither, perhaps, would have been admitted but that of 
the lUack Prince. It was twenty-seven years before 
the iron gates of the chapel would again be opened to 
receive the dead, and this too would be a royal corpse, 
— the body of Knig Henry IV., now a child ten years 
old, and perhaps present as a mourner in this very fu- 
neral, but destined to overthrow the Black Prince's son, 
and then to i-est by his side. 

In this sacred spot — believed at that time to 1)0 
the most sacred spot in England — the tomb stood in 
whicli, "alone in his glory," the Prince was to be de- 
posited, to be seen and admired by all the countless 
pilgrims who crawled up the stone steps beneath it on 
their way to the shrine of the saint.^ 

1 The only exception could have licon the tonjl. which ytjind.s on 
the southeiLst s^idc of the Trinity Chiipcl. and which, tliou'^h not as 
earlv as Theohald, to whom it is commonly ascrilied, must he of tlie 
heginnino' of the thirteenth century. 

- An exactly analogous j)ositi(in, liy Saint Alhan's shrine, is as- 



EFFECTS OF TUIO I'KINCE'S LIFE. 177 

Let us turn to that tomb, and see how it sums up 
his whole life. Its briglit colors have long since faded, 
but enough still remains to show us what it was as it 
stood after the sacred remains had been })laced within 
it. There he lies : no other memorial of him exists in 
the world so autlientie. There he lies, as he had di- 
rected, in full armor, his head resting on his helmet, his 
feet with the likeness of " the spurs he won " at Cressy, 
his hands joined as in that last prayer which he had 
offered up on liis^ deathbed. There you can see his fine 
face with the Plantagenet featuies, the ilat cheeks, and 
the well-chiselled nose, to be traced perhajis in the 
etiigy of his father in Westminster Abbey and of his 
grandfather in Gloucester Cathedral. Un his armor 
you can still see the marks of the bright gilding with 
which the figure was covered from head to foot, so as 
to make it look like an image of pure gold. High 
above are suspended the brazen gauntlets, the helmet, 
with what was once its gilded leopard-crest, and the 
wooden shield; the velvet coat also, endjroidered with 
the arms of France and England, now tattered and col- 
orless, but then blazing with blue and scarlet. There, 
too, still hangs the empty scabbard of the sword 
wielded perchance at his three great battles, and which 
Oliver Cromwell, it is said, carried away.^ On the can- 
opy over the tomb there is the faded representation — 
painted after the strange fashion of those times — of 
the Persons of the Holy Trinity, according to the pecu- 
liar devotion which he had entertained. In the pillais 
you can see the hooks to which was fastened the Idack 
tapestry, with its crimson border and curious embroi- 

sigued in the Abbey of St Albans to the tomb of Humphrey, Uuke of 
Gloucester. 

1 For the history of this sword, see Appendix. 
12 



178 EFFECTS OF THE PIUNCE'S LIFE. 

clery, which he directed in his will shovild be hung round 
his tomb and the shrine of Becket. Eound about the 
tomb, too, you will see the ostrich feathers,^ which, ac- 




SURCOAT, HKLMET, SHIELD, CREST, ETC., OF THE BLACK PRINCE 
SUSPENDED OVER HIS TOMB. 



cording to the old but doubtful tradition, we are told 
he won at Cressy from the blind King of Bohemia, who 
perished in the thick of the tight; and interwoven witli 

1 The Essay by the late Sir Harris Nicolas, in the " Archicologia," 
vol. xxxii., gives all that can be said on this disjmted question. The 
ostrich feathers are first mentioned in 13()9, on the plate of I'liilippa, 
and were used by all the sons of Edward II., and of all subsoi|iuiit 
kings, till the time of Arthur, son of Henry VII., after which they 
were apjjropriated as now to the Erince of Wales. The Black Prince 
had sometimes one ostrich feather, sometimes, as on the tomb, three. 
The old explanation given by Camden was that they indicated fetl- 
vess in discharge of duty. The King of Bohemia's badge was u 
vulture. 



EFFECTS OF TJIE I'RINCE'S LIFE. 17^ 

them, the famous motto,^ with which he used to si*^u 
his name, Hoaiiiuiit, Ich dicuc. If, as seems most 
iii'Cely, they are German words, they exactly express 
what we have seen so often in his life, the union of 
HucJi Math, that is, " hii;h s}tirit," with Icli dien, "I 
serve." They bring before us the very scene itself after 
the battle of Poitiers, where after having vanquished 
the whole French nation he stood behind the cajitive 
king, and served him like an attendant. 

And, lastly ,^ carved ai)0ut the tondt, is the long in- 
scription, selected- l)y himself before his death, in iN'or- 
man French, still the language of the court, written, 
as he begged, clearly and })laiidy, that all might read 

1 llouinont — Ich dim. It (jccui's twice us lii.s .■iiitDgrajili sigiiiiture 
(sec iSpjjeudix). But it.s iirst jmlilic uiiiifiinuiLC i.s uu tlie tomb, where 
tlie worils are written alternately above tlic coats of arms, and also on 
the quills of the feathers. It is said, thougli without sufficient proof, 
tiiat tlie King of Bohemia liad the motto hh dim from his following 
King Philip as a stipendiary. The Welsh antitpiaries maintain that 
it is a Celtic and not a German motto, " Behold the man," — the words 
used by Edward I. on presenting his fii-st-born son to the Welsh, and 
from him derived to tlic snl)se(jneiit Briuces of Wales, "Behold the 
man," (hat is, the male child. 

■^ "The epitaph is liorrowcd, with a few variations, from the anony- 
mous Freni'h translation of the ' Clcricalis l)iscij)lina ' of I'etrus Al- 
]ihonsus, composed between tlie years llOf. and 1110. In the original 
Latin work it may be found at )>. IOC), ]iart i., of the edition printed in 
1824 for the Hociete des Bil)lii)]ihiles Franrais. The French version is 
of the thirteenth century, and eutiilcd ' ('a>toiement d'un Pore a son 
Fils.' It was first printed by liarbazan in ITtiO, and, more comjjletely, 
by Mc'on in 1808, in whose edition the ejiitajjh maybe read (p. 190) 
under the heading of ' I)'u7i Pliilosoplie qui passoit parmi un Cinien- 
tcre.' 'i'he Black Prince, however, is not the only distinguished ] cr- 
sonage who has availed himself of this inscription ; for more tlian half 
a century previous it was ])laced (in an alibreviated form) on the monu- 
ment of the famous John de Warenne, seventh Earl of Surrey, who 
died in l.^Ot, and was l)nried before the high altar in the priory of 
Lewes. It is printed by Dugdale (not very correctly) in his Paronage, 
i. 80. from the 'Lewes Cnrtulary,' which is preserved among the Cot- 
tonian MSS. in the British Museum, W'sjias. F. xxv." — F. Maddln. 




CANOPY OF THE LLACK I'UI.NCES TUMB IN CANTERBUKY 
CATJlEDliAL. 



CHIVALllY. 181 

it. Its purport is to contrast liis former splendor and 
vio-or and beauty with tlic wasted body which is now 
all that is left. What was a natural thought at all 
times was specially characteristic of this period, as we 
see from the further exemplification of it in Chichele's 
tomb, a hundred years later, where the living man and 
the dead skeleton are contrasted with each other in 
actual representation. IJut in this case it would lie 
singularly affecting, if we can suppose it to have been 
written during the four years' seclusion, when he lay 
wasting away from liis lingering illness, his high for- 
tunes overclouded, and death full in prospect. 

When we stand by the grave of a remarkable man, 
it is always an interesting and instructive question to 
ask, — especially by the grave of such a man and in 
sucli a place, — Wliat evil is there, which we trust is 
liuricd with liini in his tomb ; wliat good is there, which 
may still live after him ; wliat is it that, taking him 
from first to last, his lif(^ and his death teach us? 

First, then, the thought wiiich we most naturally 
connect with the name of the lUack I'rince is the wars 
of the English and French, — the victories of England 
over France. Out of those wars much noble feeling 
sprang, — feelings of chivalry and courtesy and re- 
spect to our enemies, and (perha])S a doubtful boon) of 
unshaken confidence in ourselves. Such feelings are 
amongst our most iirecious inheritances, and all honor 
lie to him who first inspired them in the hearts of his 
countrymen, never to bo again extinct ! But it is a 
matter of still greater thankfulness to remember, as we 
look at the worn-out armor of the Black Prince, that 
ihose wars of P^nglish coiujuest are buried with him, 
never to be revived. Other wars may arise in the un- 



182 CHIVALRY. 

known future still before us ; but such wars as he and 
his father waged, we shall, we may thankfully hope, 
see no more again I'orever. We shall never again see 
a King of England or a Prince of Wales taking ad- 
vantage of a legal quibble to conquer a great neighbor- 
ing country, and laying waste with fire and sword a 
civilized kingdom from mere self--aggrandiz3ment. We 
have seen how, on the eve of the battle of Poitiers, one 
good man, with a patience and charity truly heroic, did 
strive, by all that Christian wisdom and forbearance 
could urge, to stop that unhallowed warfare. It is a 
satisfaction to think that his wish is accomplished, — 
that what he labored to eflect almost as a hopeless pro- 
ject has now wellnigh become tlie law of the civilized 
world. It is true that the wars of Edward III. and 
the Black Prince were renewed again on a more fright- 
ful scale in the next century, — renewed at the instiga- 
tion of an Archbishop of Canterbury, who strove thus 
to avert the storm which seemed to him to be threat- 
ening the Church; but these were the last, and the 
tomb and college of Cliieliele are themselves lasting 
monument^; of tlis deep remorse for his sin which 
smote his declining years. With him finished the 
last trace of those bloody wars: may nothing ever 
arise, in our time or our children's, to break the bond 
of peace between England and France, which is the 
bond of the peace of the world ! 

Secondly, he brings bel'ore us all that is most charac- 
teristic of the ages of chivalry. You have heard of his 
courtesy, his reverence to age and authority, his gener- 
osity to his fallen enemy. P>ut before I speak of this 
more at length, here also T must in justice remind you 
that the evil as well as the good of chivalry was seen 
in him, and that this evil, like that which I spoke of 



SACK OF LIMOGES. 183 

just now, is also, I trust, buried with liini. One single 
instance will show wliat I mean. In those disastrous 
years which ushered in the close of his life, a rebellion 
arose in his French province of Gascony, provoked by 
liis wasteful expenditure. One of the chief towns where 
the insurgents held out, was Liniogis. The Prince, 
tliough then laboring under his fatal illness, besieged 
and took it ; and as soon as it was taken, he gave or- 
ders that his soldiers should massacre every one that 
they found ; whilst he himself, too ill to walk or ride, 
was carried through tlie streets in a litter, looking on at 
the carnage. Men, women, and children threw them- 
selves on their knees, as he passed on through the de- 
voted city, crying, " Mercy, mercy ; " but he went tjn 
relentlessly, and the massacre went on, till, struck by 
the gallantry of three Fn^nch knights, wlioni lie saw 
lighting in one of the squares ngainst fearful odds, he 
ordered it to cease. Now, for this dreadful scene there 
were doubtless many excuses, — the irritation of ill- 
ness, the affection for his father, whose dignity he 
thought outraged by so determined a resistance, and 
the indignation against tlie ingratitude of a city on 
whicli he had bestowed many favors. F)at what is 
especially to be observed is not so much the cruelty 
of the individual man as tlie great imperfection of 
that kind of virtue which could aHow of such cruelty. 
Dreadful as this scene seems to us, to men of that time 
it seemed quite natural. The poet who recorded it had 
nothing more to say concerning it than that — 

" All the town.smeti. were taken or slain 
By the noble Prince of price, 
Whereat great joy hiid all around, 
Those who were his friends ; 
And his enemies were 
Sondy grieved, and repented 
That they had begun the war against him." 



184 rilJST GREAT ENGLISH CAPTAIN, AND 

This stranijje contradiction arose from one single 
cause. The l>lack Prince, and those who looked up 
to him as their pattern, chivalrous, kind, and gen- 
erous as they were to their equals and to their imme- 
diate dependants, had no sense of what was due to the 
poor, to the middle and the humbler classes generally. 
He could be touched by the sight of a captive king or 
at the gallantry of the three French gentlemen ; but he 
had no ears to hear, no eyes to see, the cries and groans 
of the fathers and mothers and children, — of the poorer 
citizens, Vvdio were not bound to him liy tlie laws of 
honor and of knightliood. It is for us to remember, 
as we stand by his grave, that whilst he has left us the 
legacy of those noble and beautiful feelings which are 
the charm and best ornaments of life, though not its 
most necessary virtues, it is our further privilege and 
duty to extend those feelings towards the classes on 
whom he never cast a thought ; to have towards all 
classes of society, and to make them have towards each 
other and towards ourselves, the high respect and cour- 
tesy and kindness which were then peculiar to one 
class only. 

It is a well-known saying in Shakspeare, that — 

" Tlie o\il wliicli nion (Id livos .il'trr tlicin ; 
Tlic <;-0(h1 is oft interred witli tlieir Ixmes." 

Hut it is often happily just the reverse, and so it was 
with the Black Prince. His evil is interred with his 
bones ; the good which he has done lives after him, 
and to that good let us turn. 

He was the first great English captain who showed 
what English soldiers were, and what they could do 
against Frenchmen and against all the world He 
w^as the first English prince who showed what it was 
to be a true gentleman. He was the first, but he was 



FIRST ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 185 

not the last. AVe have seen how, when he died, Eng- 
lishmen thought that all their hopes had died with him. 
But we know that it was not so ; we know that the life of 
a great nation is not bound up with the life of a single 
man ; we know that the valor and the courtesy and 
the chivalry of England are not buried in the grave of 
the Plantagenet Prince. It needs only a glance round 
the country to see that the high character of an Eng- 
lish gentleman, of whicli the lilack Prince was the 
noble pattern, is still to be found everywhere ; and has 
since his time been spreading itself more and more 
through clas.ses which in his time seemed incapable of 
reaching it. It needs only a glance down the nave of 
our own cathedral ; and the tablets on the walls, with 
their tattered flags, will tell you, in a moment, that he, 
as he lies up there aloft, with his head resting on his 
lielmet and his spurs on his feet, is but the first of a 
long line of English heroes, — that the brave men who 
fought at Sobraon and Feroozeshah are the true descend- 
ants of those who fought at Cressy and Poitiers. 

And not to soldiers only, but to all who are engaged 
in the long warfare of life, is his conduct an example. 
To unite in our lives the two qualities expressed in his 
motto, Hocli Jllufh and Ich dim, — " high spirit " and 
" reverent service," — is to be, indeed, not only a true 
gentleman and a true soldier, l)ut a true Christian also 
To show to all who differ from us, not only in war but 
in peace, that delicate forl:)earance, that fear of hurting 
another's feelings, that happy art of saying the right 
thing to the right person, which he showed to the cap- 
tive king, would indeed add a grace and a charm to tlie 
whole course of this troublesome world, such as none 
can afford to lose, whether high or low. Hapi)y are 
they who having this gift by birth or station use it for 



186 THE FIRST GREAT ENGLISH CAPTAIN. 

its liighest purposes ; still more happy are they who 
having it not by birth and station have acquired it, as 
it may be acquired, by Christian gentleness and Chris- 
tian charity. 

And lastly, to act in all the various difficulties of our 
every-day life with tliat coolness and calmness, and 
faith in a higher power than his own, which he showed 
when the appalling danger of his situation hurst upon 
him at I'oitiers, would smooth a hundred difficulties 
and insure a hundred victories, ^^'e often think that 
w^e have no power in ourselves, no advantages of posi- 
tion, to lielp us against our many temptations, to over- 
come the many obstacles we encounter. Let us take 
our stand by the Black Prince's tomb, and go back once 
more in thought to the distant fields of France. A 
slight rise in the wild upland ])lain,a ^teep lane through 
vineyards and underwood, — this was all that he had, 
humanly speaking, on his side ; but he turned it to the 
utmost use of which it could be made, and won the 
most glorious of battles. So, in like manner, our ad- 
vantages may be slight, — hardly perceptible to any but 
ourselves, — let us turn them to account, and the re- 
sults will be a hundred-fold ; we have only to adopt the 
Black Prince's bold and cheering words when first he 
saw his enemies, " God is my hclj), I must pjld ihnn. as 
best lean,;'' adding tliat lofty yet resigned and humble 
prayer which he uttered wlien the l)attle was an- 
nounced to be inevitable, and which has since become 
a proverb, — " God defend the ri(jld." 



The Gateway. 



APPENDIX AND NOTES. 

By INIR. A I.BERT WAY. 



1. — Ordinance by Edward the Black Prince, for the Two 
Chantries, founded by him in the Undercroft of 
the South Transept, Christ Church, Canterbury. 
Recited in the Confirmation by Simon Isbp, Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, of the Assent and Katification 
by the Prior and Chajjter. Dated August 4, 1363. 

Orlf). Clunier in the TrcdKiirjf, ('anUrhurij, No. 145.^ 

Universis sanctc niatris ccclcsie filiis ad quos presentes 
litere provenerint, Prior ct Capituhun ccclesie Christi Can- 
tuariensis sahitem in omnium Salvatore. Ordinacionem 
dimnim Cantariarum in ecclesia predicta fundatarum, inii\is 
videbcet in honore Sancte Trinitatis, et alterius in honore 
Virgiuis gloriose, inspeximus dibgenter, Cujus quidem or- 
dinacionis tenor sequitur in hec verba. Excellencia principis 
a regab descend ens prosapia, quanto in sua posteritate arn- 
pbus ditt'unditur et honorificoncius subbmatur, tanto ad 
serviendum Deo prompcior esse debet, et cum devota gra- 
ciarum accione capud suum sibi humibter incbnare, ne aliter 
pro ingratitudine tanti muneris mcrito sibi subtrahatur 
beneficium largitiors. Sauo nos, Edwardus, Princeps WaHie 

1 This (locmnent is copied in tlie Registers B. 2, fo. 46, and F. 8, fo. S3, 
vo, under this title, " Littera de Institucione dnarnni cantariarum domiiii 
Principis." In the text here given the contracted words are printed in ex- 
tenso. I acknowledge with much gratification the privilege liberally granted 
to me of examining the ancient charters in the Treasury, amongst which 
this unpnlilished document has been fonnd. 



188 ORDINANCE BY THE BLACK PRINCE 

et serenissimi Principis ac domiui nostri, domini Edwardi 
illustris IJegis Aiiglie, primogeiiitus, prideui cupientes ad 
exaltacionem paterni solii nobis nmlierem de geiiere suo 
clarissimo recipere in sociam et uxorem, denmm post de- 
liberacioues varias super diversis nobis oblatis niatrimo- 
niis, ad nobilem mulierem, dominam Joliannam Comitissam 
Kancie, consanguineam dicti patris nostri et nostram, ipsain 
videlicet in secundo, et nos in tercio consanguinitatis gra- 
dibus contingentem, Dei pocius inspirante gracia (piam 
liominis suasione, convertimus totaliter mentem nostram, 
et ipsam, de consensu dicti domini patris nostri et aliorum 
parentum nostrorum, dispensacione sedis apostolice super 
impedimento hujusmodi et aliis quibus libet primitus ob- 
tenta, preelegimus et assumpsimus in uxorem ; Injuncto 
nobis etiam per prius eadem auctoritate apostolica quod 
duas Cantarias quadraginta Marcarum obteutu dispensa- 
cionis predicte ad honorem Dei perpetuas faceremus.^ Nos 
vero, in Deo sperantes firmiter per acceptacioneni humilem 
Injunccionis hujus, et efficax ipsius compleraentum nupcias 
nostras Deo reddere magis placabiles, et patenuim solium 
per adeo sibi propinque sobolis propagacionem condecenter 
diffundei'e et firmius stabilire. ad honorem Sancte Trinitatis, 
quam peculiari devocione semper colimus, et beatissirae 
Marie, et beati Thome Martyris, infra muros ecclesie Christi 
Cantuariensis, matris nostre pi-ecipue et metropolitis, ad 
quam a cunabilis " nostris devocionem mentis erexinnis, iu 
quodam loco ex parte australi ejusdcm ecclesie constituto, 
quern ad hoc, de consensu rcverendissimi in Christo patris, 
domini Simonis Dei gracia Cantuariensis Archiepiscopi, 
tocius Anglie Primatis et apostolice sedis Legati, et religi- 
osorum virorum Prioris et Capituli ipsius ecclesie, designavi- 
mus, duas capellas, quarum una Sancte Trinitatis intitula- 
bitur, et altera beate et gloriose Virginis Marie, sub duabus 
cantariis duximus construendas, ut sic ad dictam ecclesiam 

1 See tlie Bulls of Pope Innocent VT., concerning the marriage of the 
Prince with the Countess of Kent, Rymer, FoeiL deit 1830, vol. iii. part ii. 
pp. 627, 632. 2 Sic in the original. 



FOR Till': TWO CHANTRIES. 180 

confluentes, et caj)ell;is iiostnis iiitucutes, pro coiijii^ii nostri 
prosperitato auiuuirimupie uustvaruni salute deiuii cxuiaie 
propencius exciteiitur. in nostris veru Cautai'iis ex iiuiic 
vuluams et statuinui«, (puid sint duo sacerdotes idouei, 
sobrii et honesti, uou coiiteuciusi, iioii (pievelarum aut litiuin 
assuuiptores, iiou incontiiieiites, aut aliter uotabiliter viciosi, 
quorum correecio, puuicio, aduiissio et destitucio ad Arclii- 
episcopum, qui tempore fiierit, loei diocesauum pertineat et 
debeat pertinere, eorem tameii statum vohunus esse })er- 
petuum, nisi per iiieusem et aniplius a Cautariis suis 
luijusmodi absque causa racioualiili et liceneia a domino 
L'autuarieiisi Arehiepiscopo, si iu diucesi sua preseus t'uerit, 
vel alitei- a Triore dicti monastei-ii, petita pariter et o[)teiita, 
absentes fuerint ; vel nisi vieiosi et insoleutes trina muui- 
eiiine })er temjioruui eumijeteucium intervalla, vel aliter 
trina correceione eniendatl, ab iusoleueiis suis desistcre uou 
ctu'averiut ; (juos tunc iucoi'riiiibiles seu iutolerabiles ceuse- 
uuis, et vuluinus per predictum ordiuariuui reputari, et 
]ir(ti)terea a dicta (Jautaria penitus amoveri, nulla appella- 
cioue aut iuipetracione sedis Apostolice vel regis, aut alii ^ 
juris couuuunis seu s[)ii-itualis remedio amoto luijusmodi 
ali(jualiter valitura. I'rinuuu vei'o et jiriucipaliorem tlomi- 
uum Joliannem C'urteys, de Weldcjiie, et domiiuuu Willel- 
uuuu Hateman, de (iiddingg', secundai'ium, iu eisdeiu uomi- 
uamus et coustituinuis sacerdotes, (pioi-um principalis in 
altari Saucte Trinitatis, et alter iu altari lieate INIarie, cum 
per domiuiuu Archiepiscopuni admissi fnei-int, pro statu 
salubri nostro, prosperitate iiKiti-iniouii nostri, dum vixeri- 
mus, et auiraabus nostris, cum ab hac luce subtracti i'ucri- 
nuis, cotidie celebrabunt, nisi intirmitatc aut alia cau^ui 
i-acionabili fuci-int perpcditi. ( "um vero alter eonun ces- 
serit loco suo, vel decesserit, aut ij)sum dimiserit, Nos, Ed- 
wardus predictus, iu vita nostra, et post mortem nostram 
Rex Anglic, qui pro temi)ore fuerit, ad locum sit vacantem 
quern pro tunc sccundiun censenuis quam cicius comode 

1 Tliis word is contracted in the original rt^. Tlie reading may be alii 
or aliter. 



I'JO ORDINANCE BY THE BLACK PRINCE 

potei'imiis, saltern infra unius nieusis si)aciun), dicto domino 
Archiepiscopu presuutabinius et nuuiinabimus yduneiun sa- 
cerdoteni ; ft sic, quocienscunque vacavcrit, impcrpetuum 
vulumus ubservavi. Alioquiu elapso hujusmodi tempore 
liceat Archiepiscopo ilia vice loco sic vacante de sacerdote 
ydoneo providere, salvo jure nostro et successorum nostro- 
ruin in hac parte, ut prefertur, in proxima vacatione alterius 
sacerdotis. Volumns insuper et ordiuamus quod dictus 
Arcliiepiscopus, qui fuerit, signiticata sibi morte per literas 
nostras aut successorum nostrorum hujusmodi vel aliter per 
literas Capellani qui supervixerit, aliquo sigillo auteutico 
robonitas, statim absque inquisicione alia sive difficultate 
, (pialibet presentatum sou ncjminatum hujusmodi admittat, et 
literas suas suo consacerdoti et non alteri super admissione 
sua dirigat sive mittat. Dicent voro dicti sacerdotes insimul 
matutinas et ceteras horas canonicas in capella^ videlicet 
sancte Ti-initatis, iieciiun et septeni ])salmos penitenciales 
et quindecim gradiiales et connnendacionem ante prandium, 
captata ad hoc una hora vel pluribus, prout viderint expe- 
dire. Et post prandium vesperas et completorium necnon 
placebt) et dirige j)ro defimctis. Celebrabit insuper uterque 
ipsorum singulis diebus prout sequitur, nisi aliqua causa 
legitima sicut pi-cniittitur fuerint prepediti, unus eorum 
videlicet singulis diebus dominicis de die, si volucrit, vel 
aliter de Trijiitate, et alter eorum de officio mortuorum, 
V(>1 aliter de beata Virgine Maria. Feria sccunda unus de 
i'esto novem lectionum, si acciderit. vel abtei- de Aiigclis, 
et alius de officio niortuovum, vlI de \irgine gloriosa. 
Feria tercia alter eorcun de beato Tiionia, et alius de bciita 
Virgine vel officio mortuorum, nisi ali(|uod festum novem 
leccionum advenerit, tunc enim missa de beato Thoma po- 
terit jiretermitti. Feria (juai'ta, si a festo novem leccio- 
num vacavcrit, unus de Triiiitate et alter de beata Maria 
virgine vel officio mortuorum. Feria quinta unus de festo 
(^'orporis Christi, et alius de beata Virgine vel officio mor- 
tuorum, si a festo novem leccionum vacavcrit. Feria sexta, 
si a festo novem leccionum vacavcrit, unus de beata Cruce 



FOR THE TWO CIIANTKIES. 191 

et alter do bcata Virgiue vel officio mortuoriim. Singulis 
diebus sabbati, si a festo no vein leccionem vacaverit, iinus 
de beata Virgiue et alter de officio mortuorum. Et hoc 
modo celebrabunt singulis diebus imperpetuum, et non 
celebrabunt simul et eadem bora, sed uims post aliuni, 
successive. Ante vero introitum missi quilibet rogabit et 
rogari publice faciat celebraus pro statu salubri utriusque 
nostrum dum vixerimus, et pro animabus iiostris, cum ab 
hac luce migraverimus, et dicet Pater et Ave, et in singulis 
missis suis dum vixerimus de quocunque celebraverint col- 
lectam illam, — "Deuscujus misericordie non est numerus," 
et, cum ab hac miseria decesserimus, — " Deus veuie lar- 
gitor," cum devocione debita recitabunt. Et volumus quod 
post missas suas vel ante, secundum eorum discrecionem 
difFerendum vel anticipandum, cum doctor aut lector alius 
iu claustro monachorum more solito legerit ibidem, nisi 
causa legitima prepediti fuerint, personaliter intersint, et 
doctrine sue corditer intendant, ut sic magis edocti Deo 
dovocius et perfectius obsequantur. Principali vero sacer- 
dote de medio sublato, aut aliter loco suo qualitercumque 
vacante, socius suns, qui tunc superstes fuerit, sicut pre- 
diximus locum Principaliorem occupabit, et secundum lo- 
cum tenebit novus assumendus. Ordinamus etiam quod 
dicti sacerdotes singulis annis semel ad minus de eadem 
secta vestiantur, et quod non utantur brcvibus vestimentis 
sed talaribus secundum decenciam sui status. Pro mora 
siquidem dictorum sacerdotum assignavimus quemdam habi- 
tacionis locum juxta Elemosinariam dicti Monasterii, in quo 
construetur ad usum et habitacionem eonim una Aula com- 
munis in <|ua simul cotidianam sument rcfeccionem, una 
cum quadam (Camera per CanccUum dividenda, ita quod in 
utraque parte sic divisa sit locus suificiens pro nno Iccto 
competeuti, necuon et pro uno camino nostris snmj)tibus 
crigeudi). Ita tanien quod camera hujusmodi unicum lia- 
beat ostium j)ro Capellanoruia ingressu et egrcssu. Cujus 
locum (livisuin viciuiorcm ])rincipaliori sacerdoti intitulari 
vohunus et mandamus; sub qua Camera olficia eis utilia 



192 ORDINANCE BY Till': I5LACK PRINCE 

constituent pruut eis niagis vidubitur e.xpedirt'. ('o(iuiiiuiu 
etiam habebunt competentcm ; quas quidoui duuuis nusti-is 
primo sumptibus construendas prefati roligiusi viri, J'rior ct 
Capitulum, qiiociens opus fuerit, rcparabunt ac eciani i-c- 
foraiabuut. De liabitacioue veru ipsuruui linjusniodi Yihc- 
rvun habebunt ingressutn ad dictas capellas, et regressuni 
])ro teuiporibus et horis eonipetentibus, ac retroactis teinpo- 
i-ibus pro ingressu seculariuni consiiotis. Comedent eciam 
insimul in Aula sua cum perfecta fuerit, in ipsurum quo- 
que cameris, et non alibi, requiescent. Ad liec dicti 
sacerdotes vestimenta et alia ornamcnta dicte Capelle as- 
signanda fideliter conservabunt, ot cum muudaciono aut 
reparacione aliqua indigeriut, jiredicti religiosi viri, Prior 
ot Capitulum suis sumptil)us facient rcparari, et alia nova 
quociens opus fuerit inveteratis et inutilibus subrogabunt. 
Percipiet quidem uterque eorundem sacerdotum annis sin- 
gulis dc ^ Priore et Capitulo supradictis viginti niarcas ad 
duos anni terminos, videlicet, ad festa sancti Michaelis et 
Pasclie, j)er equales porciones, necnou ab eisdem Priore 
et (Japitulo niinistrabitur ipsis Capellanis de pane, vino, et 
cera, ad sufficienciam, pro divinis officiis celebrandis. Ita 
videlicet quod in matutinis, vesi)eris et horis sit continue 
ecreus nnus accensus, et missa quacumque duo alii ccrei ad 
utrum([ue altare predictum. Quod si prefati Prior et Capi- 
tulum dictas pecunie snnmias in alicpio dictorum termi- 
norum, cessante causa legitima, solvere distulerint ulti-a 
triginta dies ad majus, extunc sint ipso facto ab cxecucione 
divinorum officiorum, suspensi, ([uousiiue ipsis ('apellanis de 
arreragiis fuerit plenario satisfactum. Pro su[)portacione 
vero predictorum onerum dictis Priori et Capitulo, ut pre- 
mittitur, incumbencium, de licencia excellentissimi Principis 
domini patris nostri supradicti dedimus, conccssimus et 
assignavimus eisdem Priori et Capitulo, eorumque succes- 
soribus, manerium nostrum de Faukeshalle juxta London', 
prout in cartis ejusdem patris nostri et nostris plenius 
continetur. Jurabit insuper uterque eorundem sacerdotum 
1 111 tlie original, et Priure. 



FOli THE TWO CHA^'TRIES. 103 

conua (loinino Airlucjiiscupu, (jui pro ten)]i(ire fiierit, in uJ- 
niissiuiic sua, (jikkI liauc urdiiiacioiiciu nostrani ohscrvabit 
et facic't, (luautuin lmiui coiR-cniit ot sil)i facultas prc«tal)itur, 
in uiiiuilius uhscrvari. Jui-al)iiut insujicr iidoin sacerdotcs 
Priori dicti Loci obedicuciain, et cpiod luiUum datu|)iiiim 
inlereiit dicto nioiiasterio vol jiersonis cjusdcui injuriam sen 
gravauicn. rtur.suni, si iu j)ro^L'iiti nostra ordiuacione pro- 
cessii touip<!i-is iuveuiatur aliijiiod diibiuin sen obscurum, 
illud interprctaiKii, iiiiiovandi, corrii;eiidi et eidem ordina- 
cioui uostrc addciidi, diiuiiuiciuli et declaraudi, iiubis cpiaiii- 
diii vixerinius, et post mortem iiostrain revereudo patri, 
domino Arcliiepiscopo Cantuariensi, qui pro tempore fuerit, 
specialiter resorvamiis.-' Ciii quidem ordinacioni sie sahi- 
briter composite et confccte tenore ])resencium nostrum 
prebenms assensum, oncra nobis in eadcm inijiosita a,L;'ii()s- 
cimns, et cetera in eadcm ordinacione contcnta, (psantiim 
ad nos attinct vol attincrc in i'litunnn i)otcrit, apprnbatmis, 
ratiticannis, et cciam confiiMiiamus. In (iiiorum onmium 
testimonium sigilhim nostrum con)mune presentibus est 
appensum. ])atumin tlomo nostra Capitulari Cantuar' ij*. 
iSou' Augiisti, Anno doinini Willesimo Trescentesimo sc.\a- 
gesimo tcrcio. Et nos, .Simon, permissione divina Archi- 
episcopus Cantuaricnsis, supraibctus, permissa onmia ct 
singula quatenns ad nos attinet autorizannis, ajijjrobamus, 
ratificamus et tenoi-o presencium uuctoritate nostra ordinaria 
contirmamus. In cujus rei testimonium sigillum nostrum fo- 
cimus liiis apponi. Datum eciam Cantuar' die, anno et loco 
supradictis, et nostre consecracionis anno quartodccimo. 

(L. S. .Seal lost.) 
Eiii'orsed. — ( "oiilirmacio Archie]. iscopi et Conventus super 

Cantarias ]Ml\vai-di ])rincipis A\'allic in ecclesia nostra in 

ciMptis.-^ In a later hand, — Dujilcx. 

1 Tlie word jus sih'His to lie omit ted in Iliis sciitciicc, of wliicli the sense 
as it stands is iiiconi]ik'te. Here the ivital (if the Ordinance ends. 

2 Tliis <loruinent bears the folh.win- nninhers, l.y whirli it has l.i-en 
chissed at various times: 45 (erased. )— Dujih'x vi. (erase(') X — C.MWk 
— ('. 145; the latter being the right relerenee, aecordii:g to the Indices now 
iu use. 

18 



104 WILL OF THE BLACK PRINCE. 



IL — THE WILL OF EDWARD PRINCE OF WALES, 
A. D. 1376.1 

CopiA Testajiknti PuiNCiris Wall'. 

(Reijister of Archbishop Sudlnd-i/, in the liejistrij at Lambeth, fo!. 90/), 
and 01 a and b.) 

En noun du Pere, ilii Filz, et de Saint Espirit, Amen. Nous, 
Eduuard, eisne filz du lioy d'Engletere et de Frauncc, prince 
de Gales, due de Cornwaille, et counte de Cestre, le vij. jour 
de Juyn, I'an de grace mil troiscentz septan tz et sisme, en 
notre chambre dedeyns le palois de notre tresredote seig- 
nour et pere le Roy a West'm esteantz en bon et sain me- 
moire, et eiantz consideracion a le brieve duree de humaine 
freletec, et come non certein est le temps de sa resolucion a. 
la divine volunte, et desiranz tonjourz d'estre prest ove 
I'eide de dieu a sa disposicioun, ordenons et fesons notre 
testament en la manere qe ensuyt. I'rimerement nous 
devisons notre alme a Dieu notre Creatour, et a la seinte 
benoite Trinite et a la glorieuse virgine Marie, et a tons lez 
sainz et seintez ; et notre corps d'esti'c enseveliz en I'eglise 
Catliedrale de la Trinite de Canterbirs, ou le corps du vray 
martir monseignour Seint 'lliomas repose, en mylieu de la 
chapelle de notre dame Under Crofte, droitement devant 
I'autier, siqe le bout de notre tombe devers les pees soit dix 
peez loinz de I'autier, et qe mesme la tombe soit de marbre 
de bone masonerie faite. Et volons qe entour la ditte tombe 
soient dusze escuchons de latone, chacun de la largesse d'un 
pie, dont les syx seront de noz armez entiers, et les autres six 

1 The following document was printed by Mr. Nicliols in liis " Collec- 
tion of Royal Wills," p. 66. It is here given with greater accuracy, 
through careful collation of the transcript in Archhishop Sudbury's Reg- 
ister at Lambeth. The remarkable interest of the will as connected with 
the Prinr'e's interment ami tomb at Canterbury may fully justify its 
reproduction in this volume. 



WILL OF THE BLACK PRINCE. 195 

des plumz d'ostruce, et (je siir cliacuu escuclion soit csci-ij)!, 
c'est assaveir sur cellez de iioz aniicz et sux' Ics aut.res dcs 
plumes d'ostruce, — Koumoiit.^ Et paramout - la toaibe soit 
fait un tablemeiit de latoiie suzorrez de largesse et luiigiive 
de meisme la tomhe, sur quel uouz voluus qe uu yuiage 
d'overeigne levez lie latoun suzorrez soit niys eu uiemorial 
de nous, tout armez de tier de guerre de uous armez (juar- 
tillez et le visage mie, ove notre heaunie du leopard mys 
dessouz la teste del ymage, Et volons qe sur notre touil)e 
eu lieu ou leu le purra plus cleremeut lire eu veoir soit es- 
cript ce qe eusuit, eu la uuiucre qe sera uiielz avis a uoz 
executours : — 

Tu qe passez ove liouelie close, par la ou eest corps repose 

Enteiit ee <je te dirrav, sieumc le dire lii say, 

Tie! come tu es, Je au ciel ■* fu, i u seras tiel come Je su, 

De la mort ne pensiiy je mie, 'I'aiit come j'avoy la vie. 

En terre avoy grand ricliesse, doiit Je y fys grand noblesse, 

Terre, mesons, et grand tresor, draps, cliivalx, argent et or. 

Mes ore su je povres et clieiiii's, ijerioud en la terre gys, 

Ma ii-ranii lioaiite est tout alec, Ma, diar est IniU u-astee, 

M.ailt est rsin.,1,. „,;,, inrM.n, Km mny na >i ^vvnr ii,,n. 

Et si ore ine veissez, Je ne (piidi' jjas ip' \()Us deeisez, 

Qe j'eusse i>nqes honi este, si sn je ore de tout cliaiifree. 

Pur Dieu pries au celestien * Hoy, qe mercy eit de rarnie'' de rnoy 

1 Tlie escutclieons on the Prince's tonili are not in confornnty with these 
directions. Over those charged with his arni.s appears the word hmnnout 
01) a little scroll, whilst over those liearing the three ostrich feathers is the 
motto, ich diene. There is probably an omission in the transcript of tliis 
passage in the Lambeth Register. The reading in the original docnnicnt 
■may have been, " Sur cellez de noz armez — ich diene — est sur les antics 
des plumes d'ostruce — houniont." Rejiresentations of these escutcheons 
as also of the altar tomb, showing tlieir ])Osition, were given, with the 
beautiful etchings of the figure of the Prince, in Stnthard's Monumental 
Effigies. Representations on a larger scale will lie lound in the notes 
subjoined. See pages 207, 208. 

2 " Par-amont, en haut." — ROQUEFORT. 

3 Thus in the manuscript. On the tomb the reading here is aulicl ; 
doubtless the word intended. " Auteil ; pareil, de meme." — Roquefort. 

* The correct reading may be ccksdeii. Roquefort gives both cekstiaii 
and celestien. 

5 Thus written, as likewise on the tomb. Roquefort gives " Arme ; 
ame, esprit," etc. 



19G WILL OF THE 15LACK PKLVCE. 

Tout c-il i|<- ])iir iimi ]iriei-iiiit., on li Difii iii'ucorderoDt, 

Diuii les iiiutLe lui son piiravs,' {sic) on mil nv \iuvt uslre clieilifs.- 

I'^t volons (je ;i (luclc lieui-e ijc iiutre co!'[i!5 soit amciiez par 
ijiv l;i vil'e' de Canterliirs tautqc a la [)riorie, cjc deux destrex 
coVL'i'tz do iioz annez, et deux lioiumez aruiez eu noz ariuez 
et eu U()Z heaumes voiseut devaut dit uotre corps, c'est assa- 
voir, I'uu pur la guerre de unz arniez eutiers quartellez, et 
laiitru pin- la paix ile uuz bages des pluuies d'osti-uee ove 
(jiiatre liaueres de uiesuie la sute, et (je eliacuui de ceux i|e 
]i()rterout lez ditz baueres ait sur sa teste uu eliapeu de ikjz 
ariues. Kt qe cell (je sera ai'uiez [lur la guerre ait uu liouune 
ai'uiez portaut a pres li uu peuuu de unir <ne pluuies d'ostruce. 
Et vuluus (|e le herce suit fait eutre le liaut autier et le euer, 
dedej'us le cpiel uous vulouis cie uotre ecjrjis suit jxisee, taut- 
([e les vigiliez, messes et les divines services soieut f'aites ; 
lescpielx services ensi faitez, soit iiotre corps portes eu I'avant 
(lite chappelle de uotre dauie on il sera ensevillez. Item, nous 
dounons et devisoms id haut autier de la dite eglise uotre 
vestement de velvet vert embroiulez d'or, avec tout ce (]e 
appcrptieut (sir) au dit vestement. item, deux bacyns d'or 
uu clialix avec le patyn d'or, noz ai'uiez graves sur le j)ie, et 
dcMX cruetz d'or, et uu yuKige de la Trinite a mettre sur le 
dit autier, et uotre grande eroix d'ai-gent suzorrez et enamel- 
lez, c'est assavoir la meliour croix (je nous avons d'argent ; 
toutcs lesquelcs cliosez nouz dounons et devisons au dit au- 
tier a y servir perpetuelement, saiuz jammes le mettre eu 
autre oeps pur uul mischiefs. Item, nous donuous et devi- 
sons al autier de uotre dame eu la chappelle surdite uotre 
blank vestiment tout eutier diapree d'une vine^ d'azure, et 

> Mr. Nicliols ]irintc(l this word parmhis as Wcever, Dart, SainlConl, 
and others hail given it. On the tomb the reading is pnray, which usu- 
ally signifies in old French, />«««, mii,r, Lat. paries. Compare Ro(]iie- 
fort, " Paradis, pnrehuis, parvis, place ([ui est devant une eglise, etc., 
en lias Lat. parvisius." 

2 The inscription as it actually appears on the toml) is not literally in 
accoi-dance with the transcript here given, hut the various readings are not 
of importance. The inscrijition is given accurately liy Mr. Ketnpe in the 
account of the tomh, in Stothard's Monumental Ettigies. 

3 This word is printed hy Mr. Nichols rinc. The wliite tissue was 



WILL OF THE BLACK riaNCE. V.)7 

inx'i Ic IVontel qerevescje il'Excesti'e nous d()iina, q'est de I'as- 
smnpuion do iiutre daiue en niyliuii sevoiee d'ur et d'autre 
vmagcvic, et un tabei-iiacle de rassiunpcioiui de notre dame, 
(]e le dit eves(je ndus donna auxi, et deux grandez chande- 
lal)res d'argent (je stmt turtUlez, ut deux bacyns de nuz arniez 
et un giand elialix suzorre et enameillez des armez de (!ar- 
renne, uve deux eruetz taillez eume deux angeles, pur servir 
a niesme I'autier pei'petuelenient, sainz jauiez le niettre en 
autiv oeps pur nul nieschief. Item, nous donnons et devi- 
sons notre sale ^ des [)lunies d'ostrueo de tapieerie noir et hi 
bordure rouge, ove eigiies ove testez de daiues, eest assavoir 
vin dossier, et liuyt pieces pur lez costers, et deux bancpieres, 
a la dit esgliso de Canterbirs. Et voloiis (|e le dossier soit 
taillez ensi come mielz sera avis a noz executoui-s pui' servir 
devant et eiitour le iiaut autiei", et, ce (|e ne biisoignera ;i 
servir illec du remenant du dit do.'.sier, et auxi les (btz ban- 
(pieres, volous qe soit departiz a servir devant I'autier la ou 
monseignour saint 'riionias gist, et a I'autier la ou la teste 
est, ct a TautiiM- la ou la poynte <le I'espie est, et entour 
notre corps en la dite ch;q)|>elle de noti-e dame Undercroffe, 
si avant come il piin-a sutlien-. VA voloms ([c les costres de 
la dit Sale snicut ]iur [leiidre en le (pier tout du long pa:-;i- 
mont les estallez, et en ceste manei'c ordenons ;\ servir et 
estre user en memoi-ial de nous, a la Teste de la, Trinite, et 
a toutz lez principalez f'estes de I'an, et ?i lez I'estes et join* 
de Monseignour saint Thomas, et a foiitcz lez fesfes de notr(^ 
dame, et les join's au.xi de notre auniversaire perpctuelenient, 
tant come ils purront diu'ei' sainz jamez esti'e mys en autre 
oeps. Item, nous dounous et devisons a notre cliapelle de 
ceste notre ibte daiue rndercrofte, en la (piele nous avoms 
fondes une chantcMie ile deux cliapellayus a clianter pur nous 
perpetuelement, nostiv missal et nostre porteii(pi-s, les(]uelx 

jirobalily diapereil witli a IrailiMi^ or l/raiR-licd pattfni in azure, in fciini ol 
a vine. 

1 A coinplete set of lian,£jin,£;s fur a ilianilicr was teruH'il a " Hall " (v/// ). 
anil liy analogy a large tent or jiavilinn lonncd ol' smfi-al )ii('ccs was ealleil a 
'• Hall ;" the hangings (,nd.n,) were also called " liallynge.s." 



l'J8 WILL OF THE BLACK PRINCE. 

nous mesmes avons fuit faire et enlimyner de iioz armures en 
diversez lieux, et auxi de nos bages dez plumes d'ostruce ; et 
ycelx missal et portehors ordenons a servir perpetuelement 
en la dite chappelle sainz James le mettre en autre oeps pui* 
nul meschief ; et de toutez cestes choses chargeons les amies 
des Prioui- et Convent de la dite eglise, sicome ils vorront re- 
spondre devant Dieu. Item, nous donnons et divisons a la dite 
chappelle deux vestementz sengles, cest assavoir, aube, amyt, 
chesyble, estole et fauon, avec towaille covenables a chacum 
des ditz vestementz, a servir auxi en la dite chapelle perpet- 
uelement. Item, nous donnons et devisons notre grand table 
d'or et d'argent tout pleyn dez precieuses reliques, et en my 
lieu un croix de ligno sancte cvucis, et la dite table est garniz 
di perres et de perles, c'est assavoir, vingt cynq baleis, trerit 
quatre safirs, cinquant oyt perles grosses, et plusours autres 
aafirs, emeraudes et perles petitz, a la haut autier de notre 
meson d'Assherugge q'est de notre fundacioun,^ a servir per- 
petuelement au dit autier, sanz jamez le mettre en autre 
oeps pur nul meschief; et de ce chargeons les armes du 
Rectour et du Convent de la dite meson a respondre devant 
Dieu. Item, nous donnons et devisons le remenant de touz 



1 Mr. Nichols supposes this to be the Augustine College at Asliridge, 
Bucks, founded by Edmund, Earl of Cornwall, about 1283, but he was un- 
able to trace any part taken ))y the Black Prince in the affair.s of that 
house. In the last edition of Dugdale's Monasticon, vi. 515, it is stated 
that a copy of the statutes given to this house about a century after the 
foundation is preserved at Asliridge House. These, therefore, may have 
been given in the times of the Black Prince. 

A copy of the Ashridge Statutes is now at Asliridge ; the originals being 
in the Episcopal Registry of Lincoln. They bear date April 20, 1376, just 
before the Prince's death. He is expressly called the founder ; and the 
reason given is, that he granted money for the maintenance of twenty 
brethren, — which was the number of the original foundation, though, owing 
to want of funds, seven priests only had been hitherto on the li.st. Arch- 
deacon Todd (in a privately printed history of Berkliamstoad) observes 
tliat there is a similar instance of the Prince claimin;;- ,is liis own founda- 
tion what was really foundeil by the Earl of Cornwall at W'alliii-I'onl, which 
the Prince calls " notre cha]iplU'," tlinusli lit- only re-established it. 

For this information I am iu.lelitcd to the Urv. J. W. Cobb, formerly 
curate of Berkhanistead. 



WILL OF THE BLACK rlllNCE. IDD 

iioz vc'stinientz, di'iips d'or, le tabernacle de la ResuiTcc- 
cioiin, deux cixtes ^ d'argent suzorrez et enameillez d'uiie 
siite, croix, chalix cruetz, chandelabres, bacjns, liveres, et 
touz noz autrez orneiuentz appetenantz a seiute eglise, a 
iiotre chapelle de saint Nicholas dedeynz notre chastel de 
Walyngforde,- a y sei'vir et demurer perpetuelement, sanz 
jamez le mettre en autre oeps ; et de ceo cliargeons les 
amies des doien et souz doyen de la dite chapelle h respon- 
dre devant Dieu, horspris toutesfoiz le vesteniont bin avec 
rosez d'or et plumes d'ostruce, liquel vestemcnt tout entier 
avec tout ce (je appertient a ycelle nous donnons et devisons 
a notre filz Richard, ensemble avec le lit qe nous avons de 
mesme la sute et tout I'apparaille du dit lit, lequele notre 
tresredote seignour et pere le Roy nous donna. Item, nous 
donnons et devisons a notre dit filz notre lit pialee de baude- 
kyn et do camaca rouge (fest tout novel, avec tout ce qe 
appertient an dit lit. Item, nous donons et devisons a 
notre dit filz notre grand lit des angeles enbroudez, avec 
les quissyns, tapitz, coverture, linceaux et tout entierement 
I'autre apparalle appertienant an dit lit. Item, nous don- 
nons et devisons a notre dit filz la Sale d'arras du pas de 
Saladyn, et aiixi la Sale de Worstede embroudez avec mer- 
myns de mier, et la bordure de rouge de noir pales et em- 
broudes de cignes ove testez de dames et de plumes d'ostruce, 
lesqueles Sales nous volons qe notre dit filz ait avec tout ce 
qe appartient a ycelle. Kt (|uant a noti'c vessrlle d'aigcnt, 
porce qe nous pensons qe nous rcceumcs avec notie com- 
paigne la princesse au temps de notre mariage, jusqes a la 
value de sept centz marcs d'estei-lingos de la vesselle de 
notre dit comjjaigne, Xous volons qe elle ait du notre tantqe 
a la dite value; ct du remenant de noti-e dit vesselle nous 
volons qe notre dit filz ait unepavtie covenalile pur son estat, 
solonc I'avis de noz executours. Item, nous donnons et devi- 

1 Clstrx, ci'sffe, slirines. 

2 Of tliis collegiate chajiel, see tin' last filitioii of Dngilale's Monasticon, 
vi. mm Til 1.350 the Prince lia.l granted to it the a.lvowson of the church 
of llarcwell, P.erkshire. 



i:UO WILL UF THE BLACK IMilNCE. 

sons a notre dit compaigiio la princesse la Sale du Worstede 
rouge d'egies et griffons embroudez, avec la bordnre de cignes 
ove testes de dames. Item, nous devisoms a Sire Roger de 
Claryndone ^ un lit de sole solonc I'avis de noz executours, 
avec tout ce qe appertient au dit lit. Item, nous donnons 
et devisons a Sire Robert de Walsham notre coufessour un 
grand lit de rouge camoca avec noz armes embroudes a 
checum cornere, et le dit Cauiaka est diapreez en li mesmes 
des armes de Her-eford, avec le celure entiere, curtyns, quis- 
syns, traversin, tapitz de tapiterie, et tout entlerment I'autre 
apparaille. Item, nous donnons et devisons a. mons'r Alayn 
Clieyne notre lit de camoca blank poudres d'egies d'azurc, 
c'est assavoir, quilte, dossier, celure entiere, curtyns, quis- 
syns, traversyn, taj)iz, et tout entieremont I'autre apparaille. 
Kt tout lo renicnant de noz biens et chateaux auxi bien 
vessel d'or et joialx come touz autere biens on (j'ils soient, 
outre cenx qe nous avons dessuz donnes et devisez come dit 
est, auxi toutez maneres des dettes a nous duex, en queconqe 
manere qe ce soit, ensemble avec touz les issuez et profitz qe 
purront sourdre et avenir de touz nos terrez et seignouries, 
par trois ans a pres ce qe dieux aura fiiite sa volonte de nous, 
lesquelx profitz notre dit scignour et pere nous a ottroiez pur 
paier noz dettetz, Nous ordenons et devisoms si bien pur les 
despenz funerales qe convenront necessairement estre foites 
pur nostre estat, come pur acquiter toutez noz dettez par les 
mains de noz executours, sicjue ils paient primerement les dis 
despencz funerales, et apres acquiptent principalement toutez 
les debtes par nous loialement dehues. Et cestes clioses et 
])orfourmez come dit est si rien remeint de noz ditz biens et 
ciiateaux, nous volons qe adonqes noz ditz executoui's solonc 
la quantite enguerdonnent noz povres servantz cgalement 



1 Sir Roger was a natural son nf tlie Piiiiee, Lorn probalily at f 'larentlon, 
and tlience named. See Sandford, Geneal. Hist., p. 189. He was made one 
of tlie knights of t.lie chamber to his half-hrother, Richard H., who granted 
to him an annuity of £100 ]iir niinnni. in IHS!*. He Lore Or, on a Lend, Sa, 
tliree ostrich feathei's Ar</., i\\i' i|uill.s traii.slixcil throngli as many scrolls 
of the first. 



WILL OF THE BLACK I'llINCE. 2Ul 

seloiic lenr degreez et dcsertes si avant come ils purront 
avoir iiiformacione de ceux (le en out melliour coguissance, 
si come ils en vorront respondre devant Dieu au jour de 
Judgement, on nnl ne sera jngge qe un seul. Et quant a, 
les annnytes qe nous avoiis donnes a noz chivalers, esquiers, 
et autres noz servitdurs, en giieredon des services q'ils nous 
out fait et des travalx (['ils out eeu entour nous, notre en- 
tiei-e et darriene volunte est (\q les dictes annuytees estoisent, 
et lie touz ceux asquelx nous les avons donnes en soient bien 
et loialement serviz et paiez, solonc le purport de notre doun 
et de noz letres (piels en ont de nous. Et chargeoms notre 
filz IJicliard sur notre heneson de tcnir et confermer a che- 
cnm quant(je nous lour avons ensi donnez, et si avant come 
Dieu nous a donnez pi»air sur notre dit tilz nouz li donnons 
notre malison s'il empesclie on soettre estre empcsches eu 
(|nant(ie en il est notre dit doun. Et de ccst notre testa- 
ment, li(]uel nous volons estre tenuz et perfourmez pur notre 
dan-eine volunte, fesons et ordcnons noz executors notre tres- 
clier et tresame irere d'Espaigne, Due de Lancastre, les rev- 
erenz j)eres en I )iru, AVilliaui Evesije de Wyncestre,^ Jolian 
p]vesqe de Bathe,- William Evesqe de Saint Assaphe,^ notre 
trescher en Dieu sire Kolioi-t de Walsham notre confessour, 
Hughe de Segrave Si'uescal de noz teri'es, Aleyn de Stokes, 
et .Johan de Foidham ; lesipielx nous ])rioms, recjiierons et 
chargeoms de executor et aciunplir loialment toutez les 
clioses susdites. l^]n tcsmoignance de toutez ot eliecunes les 
choses susdites nous avons fait mettre a cost notre testament 
et darreine volunte nous prive et secree sealx,^ et avons 



1 Willinni of Wykelifim, Bisho]) of Wiiicliestnr. inn7-14n4. 

~ .lolin TI:irc\v(^ll, Cliaiicellor of Gascony and Cliaiilain to tlie Prince, 
was P.isliop of Batli, in(!fi-138r,. 

3 William dr Sprini^liMuton was aiipointp.l Risliop of St. Asapli, Ft-li. 4, 
in7<;. in tlic sani.' year tliat tlic Prince's will is dated. 

^ This cxiircssioii deserves notice, as showing the dist.inetion liefween the 
Si, till inn in-! ml inn and llie spcrefum. Tiie seals of tlie Bhiek Prince are 
nnnierons ; ei-ht, are d.'serihed by Sir H. Nicolas in his Memoir (Archieo- 
Io:^ia, wxi. ;"!(i]), liut none of them are ideiditied with the seals aliove 
mentioned. The secree seal was doubtless tlie same kind of seal deseritied 



202 WILL OF THE BLACK PRINCE. 

auxi couimaiidez iiotro iiotair dessous cscript de mettre notre 
dite damere volunte ot testament en fourme publique, et de 
soy souz escriere et Ic signer et rnercher de son signe acns- 
tumez, en tesnioignance de toutez et checunes les choses 
dessusdictes. 

Et ego, Johannes de Ormeshevedo, clericns Karliolensis 
diocesis jJubUcus antoritate apostolica ^"otarius, preniissis 
omnibus et singulis dum sic ut premittitur sub anno Dom- 
ini Millesimo, ccc. septuagesimo sexto, Indictione quarta- 
decima, pontificatus sanctissimi in Christo patris et domini 
nostri domini Gregorii, divina providentia pape, nndecimi, 
anno sexto, mense, die et loco predictis, predictum metuen- 
dissimmn dominum meum principem agerentur et fierent, 
presentibus reverendo in Christo patre domino Johanne 
Herefordensi Episcopo, dominis Lodewico de Clifford, Nicho- 
lao Bonde, et Nicholao de Scharnesfelde, militibus, et domino 
Willehiio de Walsham clerico, ac aliis pluribus militibus, 
clericis et scutiferis, unacum ipsis presens fui eaque sic fieri 
vidi et audivi, et de mandato dicti domini mei principis scripsi, 
et in hanc publicam formani redegi, signoque meis et nomine 
consuetis signavi rogatus in fidem et testimonium omnium 
premissi)ium, constat michi notario predicto de interlinear' ha- 
rum dictii)num — tout est, per me fact, superius approbando. 

Probatio dicti Tostamenti coram Simone Cantuar' Ar- 
chiejjiscopo, iv. Idus Junii, M.ccc.lxxvj. in camera infra 
scepta domus fratrum predicatorum conventus London'. 
Nostre Translationis anno secundo. 



A marginal note records that John, Bishop of Durham, 
and Alan Stokes, executors of the will, had rendered their 
account of the goods, and have a full acquittance as also 

in otlier instnnoes as the Privy Sicjiiet. Tlie will of Edward III. was sealed 
" siiiillo jivivat-o et signeto nostris," witli the Great Seal in confinnation. 
Kirlnid TI. on liis deposition took from his finger a ring of gold of liis own 
Privy Simiet, and put it on tlie Duke of Lancaster's finger. The will of 
Henry V. was sealed with the Great and Privy Seals and the Privy Signet. 



Tomb of the Black Prince. 



KOTKS ON THE WILL. 203 

aiiDther aciiuittance from the Prior and Cluipter of Christ 
I'hiircli, Canterbury, f(ir the legacies bequeathed to that 
church, as appears in the llegister of William ((Jourtenay) 
Archbishop of Canterbury, under the year 138G. 



NOTES ON THE WILL OF EDWARD PRINCE OF 
WALES. 

In perusing the foregoing document, so characteristic of 
the habitual feelings and usages of the times, and of deep 
interest in connection with the history of the Prince, we 
cannot fail to remark witii sur|)rise the deviation from his 
last wishes in regard to the position of his to(nb. The 
instructions here minutely detailed were probably written, 
from his own dictation, the day previous to his decease ; ^ 
and it were only reasonable to conclude that injunctions 
so solemnly delivered would have been fulfilled with scru- 
pulous precision by the executors even in the most minute 
particulars. We are unable to suggest any pnjbable ex- 
planation of the deviations which appear to have taken 
place; neither the chronicles of the period nor tlie rec- 
ords of the Church of Canterbury throw light upon the 
subject. 

According to the instructions given ])y the Prince, the 
corpse on reaching the church was for a time to be depos- 
ited on a hearse, or tempoi-ary stage of framework, to he 
constructed between the high altar and the choir, — namely, 
in that part of tlie fabric designated by Professor Willis as 
the presbytery, parallel with tlie eastern transepts. There 
it was to remain, surrounded doubtless by the torches and 

1 Tlie (lay given in tlie printed lext, of Walsingliam, Hist. Ancrl., p. I'tO, 
as tliat of the Prinee's deatli, n,-niiely, .Inly 8, is oliviously incorrect. It 
is singnl.ir that Mr. Nicln.ls slionld have followeil this inadvertent error. 
(Royal Wills, ],. 77.) Trinity Sunday in the year 1376 fell on June 8; and 
that is the day stated in tlie iiisciiiition on the tomb to have been that on 
which the Prince died. 



204 NOTES ON Till': WILL. 

all the customary funeral pageantiy of the hearse, uutil the 
vigils, masses, and divine services were completed. Tlie 
remains of tlie Pi'ince were then to lie conveyed to the 
Chapel (if dur Lady Undei' Cioft, and tiiere interred ; it is 
further enjoini'd that the foot of the tomb should be ten 
feet from tiie altar. If therefore it may be assumed, as 
appears liighly i)roliahle, that the position of that chapel 
and altar at tiie period in tpiestiou was ideutical with that 
of the Lady Chapel, of wiiich we now see the remains in the 
centre of the ei-ypt, it would appear tliat the site selected 
by Edward as his last resting-jjlace uas situated almost pre- 
cisely below the high-altar in the clioir aliove. It is obvi- 
ous that tlie screen-work and decorations of the chapel, 
now existing in a very dilapidated condition, are of a period 
subsequent to that of the Prince's death ; and souie have 
attributed the work to Archbisiiop ^b)rton, towards tlie 
close of the tifteentli centuiy. This, it will be remembered, 
is the Chapel of Oui- Lady, tiie surprising wealth of which 
is described by j'lrasuius, wlio by favor of an introduction 
from Arclibish<.p Warham was aduiilted witliin the iron 
screens by wliich the treasure was strongly guarded.^ 

Here, then, in tiie oliscurity of tlie crypt, and not far 
distant from the chanti-ies which the Prince at the time of 
his marriage had founded in the Under Croft of the south 
transept, was the spot where lulward enjoined his executors 
to construct his tomb. It were vain to conjecture, in de- 
fault of any evidence on the subject, to what cause the de- 
viation fi-om his dying wishes was owing; what difficulties 
may have been found in the endeavor to carry out the in- 
terment in the erypt, or what arguments may have been 
nsed' by the prior and convent to induce the executors to 
place the tomb in the more conspicuous and sightly position 



• ril-iiinasc to St. Tli 
Nieliols, p. 50. An inlerio 
.showing also the large sl.ili 
of brass, sonietiine.s supin 
Morton. 



slat 


(•<1 l>y .Tolin G. 


veil 


l.y Dart, ]>!. ix.. 


■iisl 


Ml witli •■111 el11-v 


ilac 


i ot Archbishop 



NOTES OX THE WILL. 205 

ill )nvc, near the slii-iue of St. Thomas, in the Chapel of 
the Trinity, where it is actually to be seen.^ 

The instructions given by tiie Prince for the solemn 
pageant present a striking and characteristic picture of his 
(ibseipiies, as tiie procession passed through the West Gate 
and along tiie lligli Street towards the cathedral, lie en- 
joined tliat two cliargers {(/rjinirii), with trappings of his 
arms and l)atlges, and two men accoutred in his panoply 
and wearing- his helms shoidd jirecede the coi'pse. (hie 
chti'itl fit' dale is often mentioned in the splendid funer- 
als of former times. In this instance there were two ; one 
ot them liearing the eipu])meut of war, with the (piarterly 
bearings of I'Vauce and i'aigland, as seen upon the elligv of 
Edward, and upon the endiroidei'ed surcoat still suspended 
ovei' it. The ari-ay of the second was diiected to be pur Id 
j>(ii.i\, df no:. Iidfiea des jil nines iCostrnrc : namely, that which 
the J'rince had used in the lists and in the chivalious 
exercises of arms distinguished from actual wai-fare, and 
termed linstilndin /xn-ijii-ii, or " justes of [teas."'" Four sa- 
ble bannei-s of the same suit, with the ostrich plumes, 
accompanied this nob't^ pageant, and lichind the \vai-hoi-se 
followed a man armed, bearing a- pemion, likewise charged 
with ostrich i>lumcs. 'i'his was the smaller Hag, or streamer, 
attached to the warrioi''s lanci' ; and it may hei'e, jn-obablv, 
be regarded as representing that actually carried in the 
field by the Prince.^ 

1 Tlie .supposition tliat tlic tnmli of tlu- Priiicf iiii.i^'lit Imve lieeii ovi-i- 
iiiilly i>l:icea in \\n- cryi.t. ami ivniovcd siibsf^.pu-iitly iuio tlie C'liapt-l of the 
Trinity, may apiu-ii- v,-ry iniprolial.le. Vrt it may he ol)serve(l tliat tlic 
iron railings aniuinl the nion\inicnts of Eilwanl and of Henry IV. are ap- 
parently of tlie same age, and wronj^lit l)y the .same workman, as shown 
liy certain ornamental details. Tiiis might seem to sanction a conjecture 
that the two tombs had been placed there simultaneously, that of the 
Prince having possibly been moved thitiier from the Under Croft when the 
memorial of Henry was erected. 

2 See the curious documents and memoir relating to the peaceable Justs 
or Tiltings of the Middle Ages, bv Mr. Douce, ArcluBologia, xvii. 290. 

3 A remarkable illustration of lliese instructions in Edward's Mill is 
su]iplied liy an illumination in liic " Metrical llistm-y of the Dejiosition nf 



206 NOTES ON THE WILL. 

There can be little doubt that on the beam above the 
Prince's tomb at Canterbury there were originally placed 
two distinct atchevements, composed of tlie actual accou- 
trements, ji^iif l^^ guerre and ptir la paix, wliich had figured 
in these remarkable funeral impersonations. It was the cus- 
tom, it may be observed, wiien the courser and armor 
of the deceased formed [)art of a funeral procession, that 
the former was regarded as a mortuary due to the church 
in which the obsequies were performed, but the armor was 
usually hung up near the tomb. There may still be noticed 
two iron standards on the beam above mentioned, now bear- 
ing the few remaining reliipies of these atchevements. 
One of these standards probably supi)orted the embroidered 
armorial surcoat, or "coat of worship," by which Edward 
had been distinguished in the battle-field, charged with the 
bearings of France and England, his helm, his shield of wnv, 
likewise displaying the same heraldic ensigns, and the other 
a])pliances of actual warfare. The second trophy was doubt- 
less composed of his accoutrements for the joust, characterized 
not by the proper charges of heraldry, but l)y his favorite 
badge of the ostrich feathei-, the origin of which still i)eri)lexes 
the antiquary. Conformably, moreover, to such arrangement 
of the twofold atchevements over the tomb, the escutcheons 
affixed to its sides are alternately of war and peace ; namely, 
charged with the quarterly bearing, and with the feathers 
on a sable field. 

In regard to these richly enamelled escutcheons the 
Prince's instructions were given witli much precision. They 
were to be twelve in number, each a foot wide, formed of 
latten or hard brass; six. being de nos armcz entiers, and the 
remamder of ostrich feathers ; et qe snr chacnm esenckou 
soit escrijit, c'est assavier sur cellez de nos armez et sur les autres 
des plumes d'ostruce, — Houmout. Here, again, the tomb pre- 

Kichard TT.," where that king appears with a black surcoat powdered wiDi 
ostrich plumes, his horse in trapiiings of the same, and a pennon of the 
like bad.sre carried behind him. Richard is represented in the act of confer- 
ring knighthood on Henry of Monmouth. (Archajologia, xx. 32, pi. ii.) 



NOTES ON THE WILL. 



^0^ 



sents a perplexing discrepancy from the letter of the will, 
which Sir Harris Nicolas, Mr. Plaiiche, and other writei's have 
noticed. The escutcheons of arms are actually surmounted by 
labels inscribed houmuut ; whilst those with ostrich feathers 
have the motto ich diene, not mentioned in the Prince's 




ENAMELLED ESCUTCHEON AFFIXED TO THE AT.TAR TOMB IN CANTEliBt'in' 
CATHEDRAL UPON WHICH THE EFFIGY t)F ICDWARD THE BLACK I'RINfl': 
IS PLACED. 



injunctions. It must, liowever, be considered tliat tlic text 
of his will lias not been obtained from the original in- 
strument (no longer, probably, in existence), but from a 
transcript in Archbishop Sudl)ury's Ilegister ; and the suppo- 
sition seems probable that tlie copier may have inadver- 
tently omitted the words ich diene after noz armez, and tlic 



JOS 



NOTES ON THE WILL. 



seutoncG as it now stjuuls appears incomplete. Still, oven 
if this conjecture l)e admitted, the mottoes over the al- 
ternate escutcheons are transposed, as compared with the 
Prince's directions. 

The origin and import of these mottoes have been largely 
'Jiscussed ; it may suffice to refer to the arguments ad 




ENAMELLKD ESCUTCHEON AFFIXED TO THE ALT.Ml TOMB IN CANTERBl'HY 
CATHEDRAL UI'ON WHICH THE EFFIGY OF KUWAUD THE BLACK I'KINCE 
IS I'LACKD. 



vanced b}' the late Sir Ilari-is Nicolas and by Mr. rianchc 
(Archroologia, xxxi. 357, 372, and xxxii. G9).^ The most 
remarkable fact connected w^th this subject is that the 
Prince actually used these mottoes as a sign-manual ; 
1 See altio Mr. Planclie's History of British Costume, p. 178. 



NOTES ON THE WILL. '209 

thus : De iKir homout Ick dene, the mottoes being written 
one over the other, and enclosed witliin a line traced around 
them. This interesting signature was tirst noticed in a com- 
munication to the Spalding Society, some years since, and 
a fiic-simile engraved in Mr. Nichols's " Bibliotheca Toj)ogra- 
phica." Another document thus signed, and preserved in 
the Tower, was communicated by Mr. Hardy to the late Sir 
Harris Nicolas. It has been published in his " Memoir on 
the Badges and Mottoes of the Prince of Wales," before 
cited. ^ 1 am indebted to the obliging courtesy of the Vis- 
count Malion, President of the Society of Antiquaries, whose 
kindness enables me to place before tlie reader of these notes 




a faithful i-cpresentation of the Prince's signature, as also the 
accompanying illustrations of the subject under considera- 
tion, being woodcuts })re[)ared for the " jNIemoirs," l)y Sir 
Harris Nicolas, in the " Arclueologia." 

A brief notice of the interesting reliques which still remain 
over the tomb may here be acceptable.''^ The chief of these 
is the gamboised jupoii of one pile crimson velvet, witli 
short sleeves somewhat like the tabard of the herald, but 

i Ai-clia>olo.t;ia, xxxi. 358, 381. Tlie (locunicut in the Tower wliieli 
hears tliis signature is dated April 25, 1370, lienig a warrant granted to 
John de Esquet for fifty marks per annum out of the exchequer of Ches- 
ter. The document given in " Bibliotheca Toi)ograpliica," iii. 90, seems not 
to have been noticed by Sir Harris Nicolas. It is described as a grant of 
twenty marks per annum, to John de Esquet, dated 34 Edw. III. (1360-1-361). 

2 I regret much that I was unable to examine tiiese highly interesting 
reliipies. The followingparticulai's are lioni the notes by Mr. Kempe in the 
letterpress of Stothard's Effigies, where admirable representations of these 
objects are given ; a short .account by Mr. J. Gough Nichols, in the " Gen- 
tleman's Magazine," xxii. 384, and Mr. Hartsliorne's Memoir on Mediaeval 
Embroidei'y, Archaeological Journal, iii. 326, 327. 
14 



210 NOTES ON TllK WILL. 

laced up the back ; the fuimdation of the garment being of 
buckram, stiifted with cotton, and quilted in longitudinal 
libs. The sleeves, as well as both front and back, of this 
coat display the quarterly bearing, the fleiirs-de-Lys (seviees) 
and lions being embroidered in gold, llecently it has been 
lined with leather for its better preservation. The shield 
is of wood, covered with moidded leather, or cuir bouilli, 
wrought with singular skill, so that the Jfeur-de-l//s and lions 
of the quarterly bearing which it displays preserve the sharp- 
ness of finish and bold relief in remarkable perfection. Tlie 
iron conical-topped helm is similar in form to that placed 
under the head of the effigy ; its original lining of leather 
may be seen, a proof of its having been actually intended 
for use ; it has, besides the nari'ow ocularia, or transverse 
apertures for sight, a nuinbor of small holes pierced on the 
right side in front, probably to give air; they are arranged 
in form of a crown. Upon the red chapeau, or cap of estate, 
lined with velvet, with the ermined fore-part turned up, was 
placed the gilded I'.on which formed the crest. This is hol- 
low, and constructed of some light substance, stated to l)e 
pasteboai'd, coated with a plastic composition, on which the 
shaggy locks of the lion's skin were formed by means of a 
mould. The cha])oau and ci'est were, it is said, detached 
from the helm some years since, on the occasion of a visit 
by the Duchess of Kent to (.'auterbury. The gauntlets 
are of brass, differing only finm tliose of the effigy in hav- 
ing l)een ornamented with sma'.l lions riveted upon the 
knuckles ; the Icatlier which apj)ears on tlie inside is worked 
np the sides of the fingers with silk.^ The fact that the.se 
gauntlets are of brass may deserve notice, as suggestinsj: the 
probability that the entire suit which served as a model lor 

1 It is to 1)6 n\<;ietted tliat tlie curious lioncels on the Prince's rrannt- 
lets should have been detached by "collectors." One was shown me at 
Canterbury, now in private hands, which I much desire were deposited 
in the Library, in Dr. Bargrave's cabinet of coins and antiquities, or in 
some other place of safe custody. Another was in tiie ])ossession of a 
Kentish collector, whose stores were dispersed by pul>lic auction a few 
\ears since. 



NOTES ON THE WIEL. 211 

the effigy of the Prince wiis of that metal. The scabbanl 
(if red leather with gilt studs, and a fragment of the belt of 
thick cloth, with a single buckle, alone remain ; it has lieen 
stated, on what authority I have not been able to ascertain, 
that the sword was carried away by Cromwell.^ 

A representation lias happily been preserved of another re- 
licpie, originally part of the funeral atchevements of the Black 
I'rince, and which may have formed a portion of the accou- 
trements pur la paix. Edmund 15ulton, in his " Elements 
of Armories," printed in IGIO, remarks that the ancient 
fashion of shields was triangidar, - namely, that of the shield 
still to be seen o\er the Prince's tomb, - vmi that it was not 
the only form ; and he gives two examjiles, one being tiie 
"honorai'y" shield belonging to the most renowned Edward 
Prince of Wales, whose tomb is in the Cathedral Church in 
Canterbury. '-There (beside his quilted coat-ai'mour with, 
halfe-sleeves, taberd-fashion, and liis triangular shield, botli 
of them ]>ainted with the loyall armories of our kings, and 
diflerenced with silver labels) hangs this kinde of Pavis or 

1 On tliis subject it may be worth wliile to insert a letter received from 
the Rev. A. D. Wray, Canon of Mancliester, in the liope of eliciting; further 
information on the fate of the sword. — A. P. S. 

"The sword, or supposed sword of the Bhick Prince, which Oliver C'loni- 
well is said to have carried away, I have seen and many times have had in 
my hands. There lived in Manchester, when I first came here (1809) a Mr. 
Thomas Barntt, a saddler by trade ; he was a great antiquarian, and hail 
collected together helmets, coats of mail, horns, etc., and many coins. But 
what he valued most of all was a sword : the blade about two feet long, and 
on the blade was let in, in letters of gold, ' Edwakdus Wallie Princeps.' 
1 see, from a drawing which I possess of himself and his curiosities, he was 
in possession of this sword a.D. 1794. He tohl me lie purchased many of the 
ancient relics of a pedler, who travelled thro\igh the country selling earth- 
enware, and I think he said he got this sword from this pedler. When 
Barritt died, in October, 1820, aged seventy-six, his curiosities were sold by 
his widow at a rafHe; but I believe this sword was not among the articles 
so disposed of. It had ])robably been disposed of beforehand, but to wliom 
I never knew; yet I tliink it not unlilcely that it is still in tlie neighboi-- 
hood. Mrs. Barritt is long since dead, and her only child a daughter, 
leaving no re]tresentative. The sword was a little cui-ved, scimitar-like, 
rather thick, broad blade, and had every a]iiiearnnce of being the Black 
Prince's sword. Mr. Barritt had made a splendid scabbard to hold it." 



212 iNOTKS ON THE WILL. 

Tarf»'at/ curiously (for those times) cmbost and painted, the 
scucheon in the bosse beeing vvorne out, and tlie Amies 
(which it seems were the same with his coate-armour, and 
not any pecuUar devise) defaced, and is altogether of the 
same kinde with that, upon which (Froissard reports) the 
dead body of the Lord Robert of Duras, and nephew to the 
Cardinall of Pierregourt was laid, and sent unto that Cardi- 
nall from the battell of Poictiers, where the Black Prince 
obtained a victorie, the reuowne whereof is immortall." 

The form of this Pavis is ovoid, that is, an oval narrowing 
towards the bottom : in the middle is a circle, api)arently 
designated by Uolton as "the bosse," the diameter of which 
is considerably more than half the width of the shield at 
that part ; this circle encloses an escutcheon of tlie arms of 
France and England quarterly, with a label of three points. 
Ail the rest of the shield around this circle is diapered with 
a trailing or foliated ornament.'^ Unfortunately, Polton has 
not recorded the dimensions of this shield ; but it may prob- 
ably be concluded from his comparing it with the taryc, 
mentioned by Froissart, upon which the corpse of Duras was 
conveyed, that it was of larger proportions than the ordinary 
triangular war shield. 

The Holy Trinity, it has been remarked, was regarded 
with especial veneration by the P)lack Prince. In the Or- 
dinance of the chantries founded at Canterbury, printed 
in this volume, page 188, the Prince states his purpose 
to be ad honorem Sancte Trinitatia quam peculiari devoci- 
one semper coUvins. On the wooden tester beneath which 
his effigy is placed, a very curious painting in distemper 
may still be discerned, I'epresenting the Holy Trinity ; 

1 A woodcut is introduced liere in the description. (Elements of 
Armories, p. 67.) It lias been copied in Brayley's Graphic Illustrator, 
p. 128. It is remarkable tliat Bolton sliould assert that the arms both on 
the quilted coat and on the triangular shield were differenced by a label of 
silver: none is now to be seen ; the silver may possibly have become effaced. 
The label apiiears on the shield figured by Bolton, as also on the effigy. 

2 A jousting-shield in the Goodrich Court Armory is decorated with 
gilt foliage in very similar style. See Skelton's Illustrations, vol. i. pi. xii. 



NOTES ON THE WILL. 



213 



according to the usual conventional symbolism, the Su- 
preme IJeing is here portrayed seated on the rainbow and 
holding a crucifix, the foot of which is fixed on a terra- 
queous ulobe. The four angles contain the Evangelistic 




KKPRESENTATION OF EDWARn THE BLACK PRTNCE KNEELING IN VENERA- 
TION" OF THI': HOLY TRINITY. 



From a metal liail.LCO 
(Of tlie saiiir 



ill tlif Rritisli Museum. 
IS as tlie origiiuU.) 



symbols. An interesting illustration of the Prince's peculiar 
veneration for the Holy Trinity is supplied by the curious 
metal badge, preserved in the British Museum, and of which 
■ Sir Harris Nicolas has given a re})resentation in his " Ob- 



214 NOTES ON THE WILL. 

servations on the Institution of the Order of the Gar- 
ter." -^ On this rehque the Prince appeai-s kneehng before 
a figure of the Ahnighty holding a crucifix, almost iden- 
tical in design with the painting above mentioned. His 
gauntlets lie on the ground before him ; he is bareheaded, 
the crested helm being held by an angel standing behind ; 
and above is seen another angel issuing from the clouds, 
and holding his shield, charged with the arms of France and 
England, differenced by a label. The whole is surrounded 
by a Garter, inscribed hony myi l-e mal y ]>ense. It is 
remarkable that on this plate, as also in the painting on the 
tester of the tomb, the dove, usually introduced to symbol- 
ize the third person of the Holy Trinity, does not appear. 

There are other matters comprised in this remarkable 
will to which time does not allow me to advert. It ap- 
peared very desirable to give, with greater accuracy tlian 
had hitherto been done, the text of a document so essential 
to the illustration of the History of Edward, as connected 
with the Cathedral Ciiurch of Cuntcrbury.^ 

1 Arclia'oloj^ia, xx.\i. 111. Tliis olijuct is a castiiij; in jicwter or mixed 
white metal, from a moulil ]irolial)ly intended for making badges, which 
may have been worn by the Prince's attenihmts affixed to the dress. 

2 It is with pleasure that I here acknowbd-c tin- idiirtesy of the Kev. 
J. Thomas, Librarian to the Archbishop, in ^i\ inj In. ilitics for the collation 
of the transcript of the Prince's will preserved amongst the Records at 
Lambeth Palace. 



ins CONNECTION WITH QUEEN'S COLLEGE, ETC. 215 



L WAS THE BLACK PRINCE AT QUEEN'S COLLEGE, 
OXFORD ? 

The tradition of the l>lack Prince's connection with 
Queen's College and with Wycliffe, as stated in the text, 
must, I find, be taken with considerable reservation. 

With regard to the Black Prince, the Bursfirs' rolls, which 
are extant as far back as 1347, exhibit, 1 am informed, no 
traces of his stay ; and the early poverty of the college is 
thought to be a strong i)resumption against it. 

With regard to Wycliffe, the liursars' rolls exhibit various 
expenses incurred for a chamber let to WycliH'e (" Magis- 
ter Joh. Wyclif") in 13r>3-137r).i This probably is the 
foundation of the story that he was there as a student; and 
if so, the supposition that he may have been there in 1346, 
at the saiTie time with the Dlack Prince, falls to the ground. 



II. DID THE BLACK PRINCE COME TO CANTEI?BUUY 
AFTER THE BATTLE OF POITIERS^ 

It appears from a letter in llymor's " Fa^dt'va," that the 
Prince was expected to land at Plymouth ; it is stated by 
Knyghton that he actually did so. The question, there- 
fore, arises whether Froissart's detailed account of his arrival 
at Sandwich and of his subsequent journey to Canterbnrv, 
as given in the Note, can be reconciled with those intima- 
tions; or if not, which authority nuist give way? 

' See notes to tlie last edition of Fox's Acts and Martyrs, p. 940. 



THE SHRINE 

OF 

ST. THOMAS OF CANTERBURY. 



The authorities for the suhjeet of tlie followiiio; Ess.iy are, besides 
tlie ciiroiiiclers and historians of the time, and the ortliiiary text-hooks 
of Canterbury antiquities, — Soniner. Hatteley, Hasted, and Willis: 
(1) Erasmus's Piljj,riinage to Canterbury and Walsin<;iiani, as edited 
with great care and copious illustrations iiy Air. Jvichols; (2) 
Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, as edited by Tyrwiiitt, and the " Sup- 
plementary Tale," as edited by Mr Wiiobt, in tii.' twenty-sixth volume 
of the Percy Society. 'Jo these I have added, in an A]i]H'n(iix, ex- 
tracts from sources less generally accessible : (1) A manuscript liistory 
of Canterbury Cathedral, in Norman French, entitled " I'cdistoire," 
now in the British Museum, of the time of Edward II. ; (2) The 
Narrative of the Bohemian Eml)assy, in the reign of Edward IV.; 
(.3) The manuscript Defence of Henry VIII , by William Thomas, 
of the time of Edward VI., in the I'.riti.sh Museum ; (4) Some few 
notices of the Shrine in the Archives of Canterbury Cathedral, — which 
last are subjoined to this E.s.say, as collected and annotated by Mr. 
Albert Way, who has also added notes on the " Pilgrim's Road " and 
on the " Pilgrimage of John of France." I have also appended in tliis 
edition a note, by Mr. Ceorge Austin, of Canterbury, on the crescent 
above the shrine, and on the representation of the story of Becket's 
miracles in the stained glass of tlie cathedral. 



THE SHRINE OF BECKET. 



AMONGST the many treasures of art and of devo- 
tion which once adorned or which still adorn the 
nietropolitical cathedral, the one point to which for 
more than three centuries tlie attention of every 
stranger who entered its gates was directed, was tlie 
shrine of St. Tlioina3 of Canterbury. And although 
that shrine, witli the special feelings (jf reverence of 
which it was once the centre, has long passed away, 
yet there is still sufficient interest around its ancient 
site, there is still sufficient instruction in its event- 
ful history, to retpiire a full narrative of its rise, its 
progress, and its fall, in any historical records of the 
great cathedral of which in the eyes of England it 
successively formed the support, the glory, and the 
disgrace. Such a narrative, worthily told, would be 
far more than a mere investigation of local antiquities. 
It would be a page in one of the most curious cha[)ters 
of the history of the human mind ; it would give us a 
clear insight into the interior working of the ancient 
monastic and ecclesiastical system, in one of the as- 
pects in which it least resembles anything which we 
now see around us, either for good or for evil ; it would 
enable us to be present at some of the most gorgeous 
spectacles and to meet some of the most remarkable 
characters of mediccval times ; it would help us to 



220 INSIGNIFICANCE OF THE CATHEDRAL 

appreciate more comprehensively some of the main 
causes and effects of the Eeformation. 

In order to understand this singular story, we must 
first go back to the state of Canterbury and its cathe- 
dral in the times preceding not only the shrine itself, 
but the event of w^hich it was the memorial. Canter- 
bury, from the time of Augustine, had been the chief 
city of the English Church. But it had not acquired 
an European celebrity ; and the comparative splendor 
whicli it had enjoyed during the reign of Ethelbert, as 
capital of a large part of Britain, had entirely passed 
away before the greater claims of Winchester and of 
London. And even in the city of Canterbury tiie ca- 
thedral was not the chief ecclesiastical edifice. There 
was, we must remember, close outside tlie walls, the 
great Abbey and Church of St. Augustine ; and we can 
hardly doubt that here, as in many foreign cities, the 
church of the patron saint was regarded as a more sa- 
cred and important edifice than the church attached to 
the episcopal see. St. Zeno at Verona, and St. Apollina- 
ris at llavenna outshine the cathedrals of both those 
ancient cities. The Basilica of St. Mark at Venice, 
though only the private chapel of the Ducal Palace, has, 
ever since its claim to possess the relics of the Evange- 
list of Alexandria, thrown into the most distant sliade 
the seat of the patriarchate, in the obscure Church of 
St. Peter in the little island beyond the Arsenal. The 
Basilica of St. John Lateran, though literally the metro- 
politan cathedral of the metropolitan city of Christen- 
dom, though containing the see and chair of the Eoman 
pontiffs, though the mother and head of all the churches, 
with the princes of Europe for the members of its 
cliaptcr, has been long superseded in grandeur and in 
sanctity Ity the august dome whicli in a remote corner 



BEFOIJE THE MURDER OF BECKET. 221 

of tlie city rises over the grave of the Ajjostle .Saint 
Peter. In two celebrated instances the cathedral has, 
as in the case of Canterbury, from accidental causes 
overtaken the churcli of tlie original saint. INlilan 
Cathedral has, from (laleazzo Visconti's eilorts to ex- 
l)iate his enormous crimes and from the popular devo- 
tion to Saint Carlo Borrouieo, mure tlian succeeded in 
eclipsing the ancient Church of St. Andjrose. Klieims 
— the Canterbury of France — furnishes a still more 
exact parallel. The Abbey Church of St. Eemy and 
the Cathedral, at the two extremities of the city, are 
the precise counterparts of Christ Church and of St. 
Augustine's Abbey in the tirst Christian city of Eng- 
land. The present magniticence of llheims Cathedral, 
as its architecture at once reveals, dat.'S from a later 
])eriod tiian tlie simple but impressive edifice which 
encloses the shrine of tht' })alrun saint, and shows 
that there was a time when the distinction conferred 
on tlie cathedr.d by the coronation of the French kings 
had not yet rivalled the g^.ory of Saint liemigius, the 
Apostle of the Franks. These instances, to which 
many more might be added, exemplify the feeling 
which in th(! early days of Canterluiry placed the 
Monastery of St. Augustine above the Monastery of 
Christ (■hurch. The former was an abbey, headed by 
a powerful dignitary who in any gathering of the Bene- 
dictine Order ranked next after the Abbot of Monte 
Casino. The latter was but a priory, under the su- 
perintendence f)f the Archbishop, whose occupations 
usually made him a non-resident, and therefore not 
necessarily liound u}) with the interests of tlie institu- 
tion of which he was Init the nominal head. 

IJesides this natural itre-eminence, so to speak, of the 
oriLiinal church of Augustine over that in which his see 



222 RELATIV^E rOSITION OF CHRIST CHURCH 

was established by Ethelbert, there was another pecu- 
liarity which seemed at one time likely to perpetuate 
its superiority. We have seen how the position of the 
abbey as the burial-place of Auj^nistine was determined 
by the usages which he brought with him from Italy. ^ 
It was outside the walls; and within its extra-mural 
precincts alone the bodies of the illustrious dead could 
l)e deposited. To our nc.'tions this would seem, per- 
haps, of trilling importance in considering the probable 
fortunes either of an ediljce or of an institution. But 
it was not so then ; and\ve shall but imperfectly under- 
stand the history not only of the particular subject on 
which we are now engaged, but of the whole period of 
the Middle Ages, unless we bear in mind the vast im- 
portance which from the fifth century onwards till the 
fifteenth was ascribed to the possession of relics. 

No doubt this feeling had a just and natural origin, 
so far as it was founded on the desire to retain the 
memorials of those honored in former times. And it is 
almost as unreasonable to deprive our great cathedrals 
of this legitimate source of interest, where no sanitary 
objections exist, as it was formerly to insist upon 
promiscuous interment within every church to the 
manifest injury of the living. Ihit however excellent 
this sentiment may be in itself, it was in the Middle 
Ages exaggerated beyond all due bounds by the pecu- 
liar reverence which at that time attached to the cor- 
poreal elements and particles (so to speak) of religious 
objects. To this, too, we must add, as has been well 
remarked by a sagacious observer of ancient and mod- 
ern usages, the concentration of all those feelings and 
tastes which now expend themselves on collections 
of pictures, of statues, of books, of manuscripts, of 
^ See " LanJiug of Augustine," p. 48. 



AND ST. AUCiUSTINE'S. 21:3 

curiosities of all kinds, but which then found their vent 
in this one department alone. It became a mania, such 
as never was witnessed before or since. The traces 
which still exist in some Koman Catholic countries are 
mere shadows of what is passed. In the times preced- 
ing or immediately following the Christian era, it hardly 
existed at all. 15ut at the time of the foundation of 
the two monasteries of Canterbury, and nearly through 
the whole period which we have now to consider, its 
influence was amongst the most powerful motives by 
which the mind of Europe was agitated. Hence the 
strange practice of dismembering the bodies of saints, 
— a bone here, a heart there, a head here, — which 
painfully neutralizes the religious and historical effect 
of even the most authentic and the most sacred graves 
in Christendom. Hence the still stranger practice of 
the invention and sale of relics, which throws such 
doubt on the genuineness of all. Hence the monstrous 
incongruity and contradiction of reproducing the same 
relics in different shrines. Hence the rivalry, the 
thefts, the connnerce, of these articles of sacred mer- 
chandise, especially between institutions whose jealousy 
was increased by neighborhood, as was the case with 
the two monasteries of Canterbury. 

According to the rule just noticed, no king of Kent 
no archbishop of Canterbury, however illustrious in 
life or holy in death, could be interred within the pre- 
cincts of the cathedral, enclosed as it was by the city 
walls, Not only Augustine and Ethelbert, but Lau- 
rence, the honored successor of Augustine, who had 
reconverted the apostate Eadbald, and Theodore of 
Tarsus, fellow-townsman of the Apostle of the (!en- 
tiles, and first teacher of Greek learning in Ijigland, 
were laid beneath the sh;do\v of St. Augustine's Ab- 



224 CHANGE EFFECTED BY 

Ley. As far as liunian prescionco could extend, a long; 
succession of sainted nien was thus secured to the ri- 
val monastery; and tlie inmates of the cathedral were 
doomed to lament the hard fate that made over to their 
neighbors treasures which seemed peculiarly their own. 
Thus passed away the first eight primates. At last an 
archbishop arose in, whom the spirit of attachment to 
the monastery of which he was the authorized head 
prevailed over the deference due to the usages and ex- 
ample of the founder of his see. Cuthbcrt, the ninth 
arclibishop, determined by a bold stroke to break 
tlirough the precedent by leaving his bones to his own 
cathedral. Secretly during his lifetime he i)repared a 
document, to which he procured the sanction of tlie 
King of Kent and of the Pope, authorizing this impor- 
tant deviation. And when at last he felt his end ap- 
proaching, he gathered the monks of Christ Church 
round him, delivered the warrant into their hands, and 
adjured them not to toll the cathedral bell till the third 
day after his death and burial. The order was gladly 
obeyed. The body was safely interred within the cathe- 
dral ])rechicts ; and not till the third day was the knell 
sonnded which summoned the monks of St. Augus- 
tine's Abbey, with their abbot Aldhelm at their head, 
to claim tlieir accustomed prey. They were met at 
tlie gates of the priory with the startling intelligence 
that the Archbishop was duly buried, and their indig- 
nant remonstrances were stopped by tlie fatal compact. 
There was one more attempt made, under Jambert, the 
next al)bot, to carry off the Ijody of the next arch- 
bishop at the head of an armed niol). IJut the battle 
was won. Jambert. indeed, who was afterwards him- 
self raised from the abbacy of St. Augustine's to the 
archiepiscopal see, could not Init remember the claims 



AKCHBlSlIor CUTHBEKT. 225 

which he had huiiself so strongly defended, and was 
interred within the walls of St. Augustine's. But 
he was the only exception ; and after this, till the 
epoch of the lieforuiation, not more than six primates 
w^ere buried outside the precincts of the cathedral.^ 

It has been thought worth while to relate at length 
this curious story, partly as an illustration of the relic 
worship of the time, partly also as a necessary step in 
the history of the cathedral, and of that especial por- 
tion of it now before us. But for the intervention of 
Cuthbert the greatest source of power which the cathe- 
dral was ever to claim would never have fallen to its 
share. The change, indeed, immediately began to tell. 
Hitherto the monks of the cathedral had been com- 
pelled to content themselves with such fragments as 
they could beg or steal from other churches, but now 
the vacant s})aces were tilled with a goodly array not 
only of illustrious prelates, but even of canonized 
saints. /^ Not only did the cathedral cover the graves 
of ancient Saxon primates, and (jf Banfianc, ihe founder 
of the Anglo Norman hierarchy, but also those of the 
confessor Saint Dunstan, of the martyr Saint Alphege, 
of the great theologian Saint Anselm. To those 
three tond)S — now almost entirely vanished — the 
monks of Christ Church would doubtless have pointed 
in the beginning of the reign of Henry II. as the crown- 
ing ornaments of their cathedral ; the monks of St. Au- 
gustine, though they might still quote with pride the 
saying of Dunstan, that every footstep he took within 
their precincts was planted on the grave of a saint,'*^ 
would have confessed with a sigh that the artifice of 
Cuthbert had to a certain extent succeeded; and when 
Lanfranc ordered that the bells of the abbey were not 

1 Thoru, 1773. - Acta Sauctoruin, May 4, p. 7S. 

15 



2l'6 SPREAD Oi'^ THE WUllSllir UF ST. THOMAS 

tu ba rung till the first note bad been given by tliu.se of 
the cathedral/ he was perhaps only confiiining, by his 
archiepiscopal authority, an equality already acknowl- 
edged by popular usage. 

Still, the superiority of tlie one ovL'r the uther was 
not absolutely decisive ; and neither edifice could be 
said to possess a shrine of European, hardly even of 
British celebrity. It is probable that Saint ('uthbert at 
Durham, Saint Wilfrid at Eipon, Saint Edmund in East 
Anglia, equalled, in the eyes of most Englishmen, the 
claims of any saints buried in the inetropolitical city. 
But the great event of which Canterbury was the scene, 
on the 29th of December, 1170, at once riveted upon it 
the thoughts not only of England, but of Christendom. 
A saint — so it was then almost universally believed — 
a saint »»f un})aralleled sanctity had fallen in the church 
of which he was primate, a martyr for its riglits ; and 
his blood, his renuiins, were in the possession of that 
church, as an inalienable treasure forever. Most men 
were persuaded that a new burst of miraculous pow- 
ers,^ such as had been suspended for many generations, 
had broken out at the tomb ; and the contemporary 
monk Benedict fills a volume with extraordinary cures, 
wrought within a very few years after the "Martyr- 
dom." Far and wide the fame of " Saint Thomas of Can- 
terbury " spread.^ Other English saints, however great 
their local celebrity, were for the most part not known 
beyond the limits of Britain. No churches in foreign 
parts retain the names even of Saint Cuthbert of Dur- 
ham, or Saint Edmund of Bury. But there is probably 

1 Tliorn, c. vii. s. 10. - See nol)ertsi)ii, pp. 291, 202. 

^ See Koger of Cropland. Matthew Paris says that dead birds 
were restored to life. For manuscript authorities ou the miracles, see 
Butler's Lives of the Saints, Dec. 29. 



IN ITALY, FRANCE, SYRIA, ETC. 227 

no country in Eur()])e wliicli does not exhibit traces of 
Becket. In lioine the chapel of the English College 
marks the site of the ancient church dedicated to him, 
and the relics attesting his martyrdom are laid up in 
the Basilica of Sla. jMaria IMaggiore beside the cradle 
of Bethlehem. In \'crona the Cliurch ol San Thoniaso 
Cantuariense contains a tooth, and did contain till re- 
cently part of his much-contested skull. A portion <if 
an arm is still shown to imjiiiriiig travellers in a con- 
veut at Florence; another jxirtion in the ( 'hurch of St. 
"VValdetrude at j\ions ;' at Lislion, in the time of Fulle)-, 
both arms were exhibited in the English nunnery ; his 
chalice at I'ourbourg, his hair shirt at l)ouay, his mitre 
at St. Omer.^ In France, the scene of his exile, his his- 
tory nuiy be tracked again and again. On the heights 
of Fourvieres, overlooking the city of Lyons, is a chapel 
dedicated to Saint Thomas of Canterbury. Four years be- 
fore his death, it is said, he was walking on the terraced 
bank of the river underneath, and being asked to whom 
the chapel should be dedicated, he re])lied, " To the next 
nuirtyr," t)n which his companion remarked, " Perhaps, 
then, to you." The same story with the same issue is 
also told at St. Lo in Normandy. In the same province, 
at Val Iticher, a tract of ground, still within the memory 
of men, was left uni)loughed, in recollection of a great 
English saint who had there performed his devotions. 
In Sens the vestments in which he otiiciated"^ and an 



1 Rrassem's Tlies. Rt'li;^'. Ilanuoiiiic, p. 190 (Butler's Lives of tlie 
Saiuts, Dee. 29). 

2 Haverdeii's True Chureh, part iii, e. 2, p. 314 (Iliid.). 

^ The length of these vestments confirms tlie account of his great 
stature. (See "Murder of Becket," p. 88.) On the Feast of Saint 
Thomas, till very recently, they were worn for that one day by the 
officiating priest. The tallest priest was always selected ; and eveu 
then It was necessary to jiiu them up. 



2l'8 SriJKAI) OF TIIK WOKSllir OK ST. THOMAS 

ancient altar at which he said Mass, are exhihited in 
the cathedral; and the old convent at iSt. Lolonjbe, 
where he resided, is shown outside the city. At Lille 
there is a house with an inscri]!ti()n conmieuKirative of 
his having passed a night there.' In the niagniticent 
windows of Chartres, of Sens, and of St (Juen, the story 
of his life holds a conspicuous ])lace. At I'alernu) his 
figure is still to be seen in the ( hurch of ]\lonreale, 
founded by William the Good in the year of his canon- 
ization. Even far away in Syria, " Saint Thomas " was 
not forgotten by the crusading army. His name was 
inscribed on the banner of Archbishop Baldwin, at 
Acre. William, chaplain of the Dean of St. Paul's, on 
his voyage thither, made a vow that if he entered the 
place in safety, he would build there a chapel to the 
" Martyr," with an adjoining cemetery to bury the de- 
parted. The city was taken, and the vow accomplished. 
William passed his life within the precincts of his church, 
engaged as prior in the pious work of interring the dead. 
King Richard at the same time and place founded an 
order of St. Thomas under the jurisdiction of the Tem- 
plars. And from these circumstances one of the nanifs 
by which the saint henceforward was most frequently 
known was "Thomas Acrensis," or "Saint Thomas of 
Aeon or Acre." ^ 

To trace his churches and memorials through the 
British dominions would be an endless labor. In Scot- 
land, within seven years from the murder, the noble 
Aljbey of Aberbrothock ^ was raised to his memory by 
William the Lion, who chose it for the place of his own 

1 Digby's Mores Cattolici, p. .361. 

2 Maitland's London, p. SS.'i ; Diceto, G.W ; Mill's Crusades, ii. 89. 
■* The Abbey of Aberbrothock is the ruin familiar to readers of 

Scott's uovel of the " Auticjuary " as "the Abbey of St. Ruth." 



IN LONDON. 229 

interment, partly, it would seem, from an early friend- 
ship contraeted with the Archbishop at Henry's Court, 
partly from a lively sense of the Martyr's power in 
bringini; about his def.^at and capture at Alnwick. ^ A 
mutilated figure of Saint Thomas has survived amidst the 
ruins of the monastery. In therouii,h borderland between 
the two kingdoms, no oath was considered so binding 
in the thirteenth century, as one which was sworn upon 
" the holy mysteries " and " the sword of Saint Thomas." 
This, in all probability, was the sword which Hugh de 
More\ille wore on the fatal day, and wliicli, being pre- 
served in his nntivc province, thus obtained the same 
kind of honor in the north as that of IJichard Le Bret 
in the south, and was long regarded as the chief glory 
of Carlisle Cathedral'-^ hi England there was hardly a 
county which did not possess some church or convent 
connected with Saint Tliomas. The innnense prepon- 
derance of the name of "Thomas" in England, as com- 
pared with its use in other countries, probably arose 
from the reverence due to the great English saint. 
Next to the name of " John," common to all Christen- 
dom, the most familiar to English ears is "Tom," or 
'• 1'homas." How few of those who bear or give it re- 
flect that it is a vestige of the national feeling of the 
twelfth century ! Another instance may be found in 1 he 
frequency of the name of "Thomas," "the great Tom, ' 
ap[)lied to so many of our ancient bells. But at that 

1 Sec " Murder of Berket," ]>. 14:1. The aiilliorilirs r..r Willi;im"s 
miitives in tlie fnuiidatioii of tlio alihcy nic i;i\cii In i lie " llcoistrnin 
vetusde Aherhruthock," printed hy the Baniiatync Clnli, IVefaee, ]i. 12. 

" See " Murder of Berket," j). 12.5, and tlic arcount of tlie oath of 
Rol)ert Brure at Carlisle, in Ilolinsiied, ii. .52.!, and tlic hi'ief " History 
of Carlisle Cathedral," ]>. ;!0, l.y its (oiinrr ,\c,dlcnt Dean, the ])resent 
Areld.ishop of Canterhury. Tlie aixive stalmiml r.-u„riles the diffi- 
culty about the two swords, stated in I'ei^ge's Beaueliief iVbbey, \t. G. 



230 WUKSIJIP OF SAINT THOMAS IN LONDON. 

time the reniiiiiscences of Saint Thomas were more 
substantiaL Besides the swords ah^eady mentioned, 
probably of Moreville and of Le Bret, a third sword, 
perhaps of Tracy or Fitzurse, was preserved in the 
Temple ^ Church of London. At Derby, at Warwick, 
at St. Albans, at Glastonbury, were portions of his 
dress ; at Chester, his girdle ; at Alnwick, or at Corby ,^ 
his cup ; at Bury, his penknife and boots ; at Windsor 
and Beterborougli, drops of his blood.''^ The Priory of 
Woodspring on the Bristol Channel, the Abbey of 
Beauchief in Derbyshire, were direct expiations of the 
crime.* The very name of the latter was traced, by 
popular though probably erroneous belief, to its con- 
nection with the " Bellum caput," or "Beautiful head" 
of the slaughtered Archbishop.^ London was crowded 
with memorials of its illustrious citizen. The Chapel 
of St. Thomas of Acre, now merged in the ]\Iercer's 
Hall, marked the place of liis birth, and formed one of 
the chief stations in tlie procession of the Lortl Mayor. '^ 
The chapel which guarded the ancient London Bridge 
was dedicated to Saint Thomas. The seal of the bridge 
"had of old the efhgies of Thomas of Becket (a Lon- 
doner born) upon it, with this inscription in the name 
of the city, ' Me quic te peperi, ne cessis, Thoma,' tueri.' 
The solitary vacant niche which is seen in the front of 
Lambeth Balace, facing the river, was once filled l)y a 

' See Inventory of the Temple Cluirch, Gentleman's Magazine, 
May, 18.58, p. .516. 

'^ Audin's History of Henry VIII., i. 13.5. 

3 See Pegge's Beaneliief Abbey, p. .3; Nichols's Erasmus, p. 229. 

< See " Murder of Becket," pp. 126, 129. 

^ See regge's Beauchief Al)ltey, pp. 6-20. He proves that the 
ground on which the abbey stniids was called Beauchief, or tlie Beauti- 
ful Headland, prior to the building of the convent. 

6 Maitland's London, p. 88.5. 

' Howel's Loudiuopolis, p. 395 (Notes and Queries, May 22, 1858). 



ALTAR OF THE SWORD'S F>)1NT. 2ol 

statue of the great Trimate, to wliioli the watermen of 
the Thames dotted their caps as they rowed by in their 
countless barges." 

But Canterbury was, of course, the centre of all. 
St. Augusthie's still stood proudly aloof, and was sat- 
isfied with the glory of P^thelbert's baptism, which ap- 
pears on its ancient seals ; but the arms of the city and 
of the chapter represented " the ]\Iartyrdom ; " and 
the very name of " Christ Church " or of " the Holy 
Trinity," by which the catliedral was pro})erly desig- 
nated, was in popular usage merged in that of the 
" Church of St. Thomas." ^ 

For the few years immediately succeeding his death, 
there was no regular shrine. The popular enthusiasm 
still clung to the two s}»ots immediately connected 
with the murder. The transept in wliich he died with- 
in live years from that time acquired the name by 
wliich it has ever since been known, "The Martyr- 
dom.""-^ This spot and its subsequent alterations have 
been already described. The flagstone on which his 
skull was fractured, and the solid corner of masonry 
in front of whicli he fell, are probably the only parts 
which remain unchanged. I'ut against that corner 
may still l)e seen the marks of the space occupied 
by a wooden altar, which continued in its original 
simplicity through all the sul)sequent magnificence of 
the church till the tiiue of the Reformation. It was 
probably the identical memorial erected in the first 
haste of enthusiasm after the reopening of the catlie- 
dral for worship in 1172. It was called the " Altar 
of the Martyrdom," or more commonly the " Altar of 
the Sword's Point" (" Altare ad Punctum En.sis "), 

1 See Niclmls's Er.isnms, p. 110; Soniner's Caiitei-lmrv, p. 18. 

2 See Gamier, p 7(i, and " Murder of Becket," p. 102. 



232 ALTAIl OF THE SW()K1)'S rOIXT. 

from the circumstance that in a wooden shed placed 
upon it was preserved the fragment of Le Bret's sword, 
which had been left on the pavement after accomplish- 
ing its bloody work. Under a piece of rock crystal ^ 
surmounting the chest, was kept a portion of the brains. 
To this altar a regular keeper was appointed from 
among the monks, under the name of " Custos Mar- 
tyrii." In the first frenzy of desire for the relics of 
Saint Thomas, even this guaranty was inade([uate. Two 
memorable acts of plunder are recorded within the first 
six years, curiously illustrative of the prevalent passion 
for such oltjects. The first was accomplished by Bene- 
dict, a monk of Christ Church, pr()l)a])ly the most dis- 
tinguished of his body; wlio was, in 1170, appointed 
Abbot of Peterborough. Finding that great establish- 
ment almost entirely destitute of relics, he returned to 
his own catliedral, and carried off with him the fiag- 
stones immediately surrounding the sacred spot, with 
which he formed two altars in the conventual church 
of his new appointment, besides two vases of blood and 
parts of Becket's clothing.- The other instance is still 
more remarkable. The keeper of the " Altar of the Mar- 
tyrdom " at tliat time was Eoger. The monks of St. 
Augustine's Abbey ofu r.'d to him (and their chroni- 
clers ^ are not ashamed to lioast of the success of the 
experiment, though aCiccting to despise any addition to 
their own ancient stove) no less an inducement than 
the vacant abbacy, in the hope of obtaining thr<uigh 
his means for their church a portion of tlie remains of 

1 Sec Noto F. 

'- lioliert of Swaffliam, in Hist. ATic;lio., p. 101. Beneilict al.'so hnilt 
a chapel to Saint Tlionias, l)y tlifi patewny of tlie Precincts of Peter- 
l)orouc;h. I'liis .still roniains, niiil is now used as the catliedral 
school 

3 Thorne, 11 7G; Holinshcd. 



THE TOMP. IX THE CRYPT. 2o3 

the sacred skull, which liad been specially committed 
to his trust. He carried off the prize to the rival es- 
tablishment, and was rewarded accordingly. V 

Next to the actual scene of the mnrder, the object 
which this event invested with especial sanctity was 
the tomb in which his remains were deposited in the 
crypt 1 behind the altar of the Virgin. It was to this 
spot that the first great rush of pilgrims was made 
when the church was reopened in 1172, and it w\as 
here that Henry performed his penance.^ Hither, on 
the 21st of August, 1179, came the first king of France 
wlio ever set foot on the shores of England, Louis VII. ; 
warned by Xaint Thomas in dreams, and afterwards, 
as he believed, receiving his son back from a dangerous 
ilhiess through the saint's intercession. He knelt by 
the tomb, and offered upon it the celebrated jewel (of 
which more .shall be said hereafter), as also his own 
rich cup of gold. To the monks he gave a hundred 
measures of wine, to be paid yearly at Pois.sy, as well 
as exemption of toll, tax, and tallage,-'^ on going to or 
from Ids domains, and was himself, after passing a 
night in prayers at the tomb, admitted to the fraternity 
of the monastery in the Chapter House. It was on 
this occasion (such was the popular Ijelief of the Dover 
seamen) that he a.sked and obtained from the saint 
(" because he was very fearful of the water " ) that 
"neither he nor any others that crossed over from 
Dover to AVitsand should sutler any manner of loss or 

1 Roe " Mnrdor of T'ockot," p. 117. On ono occnsion tlio liody -was 
romovod to :i wdoilcii clifst in fear of an assanlt from the okl enemies 
of l^ecket, will) were tliouo;lit to be Inrkinej armed ahont the church for 
tliat purpose. I'nt tliey were foiled liy the via,i]ance of the monks an.i 
liy a inir.acnion.s storm. (Benedict, de Mirac, i. .50.) 
' - See " Mnrder of Ilecket," ]>. 140. 
3 Diceto, G04; Gervase, 1455, Stuw, 155; Ilolinshed, ii. 178. 



234 THE ITKE OF 1174. 

shipwreck." ^ Ek'liaid"s first act, on landing at Sand- 
wich, after his return from Palestine, was to walk all 
the way to Canterbury, to give thanks " to God and 
Saint Thomas" for his deliverance.^ Thither also 
came John in great state, immediately after his coro- 
nation.'" The spot was always regarded with rever- 
ence, and known hy the name of "The Tomb," with 
a special keeper. It would probaldy have invested 
the whole crypt with its own peculiar sacredness, and 
rendered it — -like that of Chartres in old times — the 
most important part of the church, but for an acci- 
dental train of circumstances which led to the erec- 
tion of the great shrine whose history is now to be 
unfolded. 

About four years after the murder, on the 5th of 
Septemljer, 1174, a fire broke out in the cathedral, 
which reduced the choir — hitherto its chief architect- 
ural "lory — to ashes. The grief of the people is de- 
scribed in terms which (as has been before observed "* ) 
show how closely the expression of mediaeval feeling 
resembled what can now only be seen in Italy or the 
Kast: "They tore their hair; they beat the walls and 
pavement of the church with their shoidders and the 
])alms of their hands ; they uttered tremendous curses 
against (lod and his saints, — even the patron saint of 
tlie cliurch ; they wished they had rather have died 
than seen such a day." How far more like the de- 
scription of a Neapolitan mob in disappointment at 
the slow liquefaction of the blood of Saint Januarius, 
than of the citizens of a quiet cathedral town in the 
county of Kent ! The monks, though appalled by the 
calamity for a time, soon recovered themselves ; work- 

1 Laiiihiinrs K?iit, p 129. - Brompton, 12.'j7. 

3 Diieto, Tdfi. * See "Murder of Becket," p. 9! 



liKyTOUATION OF THE CATHEDRAL. 235 

men and architects, French and English, were pro- 
cured ; and amongst the former, William, from the 
city of Sens, so familiar to all Canterbury at that 
period as the scene of Eecket's exile. No observant 
traveller can have seen tlie two cathedrals without 
remarking liow closely the details of William's work- 
manship at Canterbury were suggested by his recollec- 
tions of his own church at Sens, built a short time 
before. The forms of the pillars, the vaulting of the 
roof, even the very bars and patterns of the windows, 
are almost identical. It is needless to go into the 
story of tlie restoration, tlmroughly worked out as it 
has been by Professor Willis in his "Architectural 
History of Canterbury Cathedral ; " but it is important 
to observe, in tb.e contemporary account preserved to us,^ 
how the position and the removal of the various relics 
is the principal object, if not in tlie mind of the archi- 
tect, at least in that of the monks who employed him. 
It was so even for the lesser and older relics, — much 
more then for the greater and more recent treasure for 
which they were to provide a fitting abode, and tlirough 
which they were daily obtaining tliose vast pecuniary 
resources that alone could have enalded them to re- 
build the cluirch on its present splendid scale. The 
French architect had unfortunately met with an acci- 
dent, which disabled him from continuing his opera- 
tions. After a vain struggle to superintend the works 
by being carried round the church in a litter, he was 
compelled to surrender the task to a namesake, an 
Englishman ; and it is to him that we owe the design 
of that part of the cathedral which was destined to 
receive the sacred shrine. 

^ Gervase, in the " Deceni Scri|iti)ros ; " iiud Profesf^or Willis's His 
ton- of Canterbury Cathedral, ehap. iii. 



236 SI^rULTUKE OF SAINTS. 

To those who are unacquainted with the fixed con- 
catenation of ideas, if one may so speak, which guided 
the arrangement of these matters at a time when they 
occupied so prominent a place in the thoughts of men, 
it might seem a point of comparative indifference where 
the tomb of the patron saint was to be erected. lUit 
it was not so in the age of which we speak. In 
this respect a marked difference prevailed between the 
primitive and southern practice on the one hand, and 
the medii^val and northern practice on the other hand. 
In Italy the bones of a saint or martyr were almost 
invariably deposited either beneath or immediately in 
front of the altar. Partly, no doubt, this arose from 
the apocalyptic image of the souls crying from beneath 
the altar; chieily from the fact that in the original 
burial-places of the catacombs the altar, or table of 
the Eucharistic feast, was erected over the grave of 
some illustrious saint, so that they might seem even 
in death to hold communion with him. Eminent in- 
stances of this practice may be seen at Eome, in the 
vault supposed to contain the remains of Saint Peter; 
and at iMilan, in tliat which in the cathedral is occu- 
pied by the grave of Saint Carlo Porromeo, and in 
the Church of ^'t. Ambrogio ])y that of .Saint Ambrose. 
But in the Gothic nations this original notion of the 
burial-place of the saints became obscured, in the in- 
creasing desire to give them a more honorable place. 
According to the precise system of orientation adopted 
by the German and Celtic nations, the eastern portion 
of the church was in those countries regarded as pre- 
eminently sacred. Thither the high altar was gradu- 
ally moved, and to it the eyes of the congregation were 
specially directed. And in the eagerness to give a 
higher and holier cvlii than the highest and the holiest 



SEPULTUUE OF SAINTS. 237 

place to any i^rcat saint on whom po})ular devotion was 
t'a.-iti'niMl, Lliure siiraiiy- up in most of the larger churches 
during the thirteenth century a fashion of throwing 
t)ut a still farther eastern end, in which the shrine 
or altar of the saint might l)e erected, and to which, 
therefore, not merely the gaze of the whole congrega- 
tion, l)ut of the olliciating priest himself, even as he 
stood before the higii altar, nnght be constantly turned. 
Thus, according to Fuller's quaint remark, the super- 
stitious reverence for the dead reached its highest pitch, 
— " the porch saying to the churchyard, the church to 
the porch, the chancel to the church, the east end to 
all, ' Stand further oil', I am holier than thou.' " ^ This 
notion hapi)ened to coincide in point of time with the 
burst of devotion towards the Virgin Mary, which took 
place under the Tontificate of Innocent IIL, during 
the Hrst years of the thirteenth century ; and therefore, 
in all cases where there was no special local saint, this 
eastern end was dedicated to " Our Lady," and the 
cha})el tlius formed was called tlie " Lady ("hapel." 
Such was the case in the cathedrals of Salisljury, 
Norwich, Hereford, Wells, Gloucester, and Chester. 
But when the popular feeling of any city or neighbor- 
hood had been directed to some indigenous object of 
devotion, this at once took the highest place ; and the 
Lady Chapel, if any there were, was thrust down to a 
Jess honorable position. Of this arrangement, the most 
notable instances in England are, or were (for in many 
cases the very sites have ^perished), the shrines of St. 
Alban in Hertfordshire, St. Edmund at lUiry, St. Ed- 
ward in Westminster Abljcy, St. Cuthbert at Durham, 
and St. Etheldreda at Ely. 

These were the gener: 1 principles which deterndned 

1 Church llisLiJiv, ii. c-out. viii- 28. 



238 ENLARGEMENT OF THE EAST END. 

the space to be allotted to the Shrine of St. Thomas in 
the reconstruction of Canterbury Cathedral.^ In ear- 
lier times the easternmost chapel had contained an 
altar of the Holy Trinity, where Becket had been 
accustomed to say Mass. Partly for the sake of pre- 
serving the two old Norman towers of St. Anselui and 
St. Andrew, which stood on the north and south side 
of this part of the church, but chietiy for the sake of 
fitly uniting to the church this eastern chapel on an 
enlarged scale, the pillars of the choir were contracted 
with tliat singular curve which attracts the eye of 
every spectator, — as Gervase foretold that it would, 
when, in order to explain this peculiarity, he stated 
the two aforesaid reasons.- The eastern end of tlie 
cathedral, thus enlarged, formed, as at Ely, a more 
spacious receptacle for the honored remains ; the new 
Trinity Chapel, reaching considerably beyond the ex- 
treme limit of its predecessor, and opening beyond into 
a yet further chapel, popularly called " Becket's Crown." 
Tlie windows were duly tilled with the richest painted 
glass of the period, and amongst those on the northern 
side may still be traced elaborate representations of 
the miracles wrought at tlie subterraneous tomb, or 
by visions and intercessions of the mighty saint. High 
in the tower of St. Anselm, on the south side of the 
destined site of so great a treasure, was prepared — a 
usual accompaniment of costly slirines — the "Watch- 
ing Chamber.'' ^ It is a rude apartment, with a tire- 
place where the watcher could warm himself during 
the long winter nights, and a narrow gallery between 

1 Gervase (in Willis's Canteilmry Cathedral, p. .'ie). 

2 Ibid., p. 60. 

3 A similar purpose may be assigned to the structures near the site 
of St. Frideswide's Shrine in the Cathedral of Christ Church, Oxford ; 
and of St. Albau's Shrine in the Abbev of St. Albans, in Hertfordsliire. 



The Baptistery. 



'ir>\n\' 



TRANSLATION OF THE RELICS. 230 

the pillars, whence lie could overlook the whole plat- 
form of the .shrine, and at once detect any sacrilegious 
robber who was attracted by the immense treasures 
there collected. On the occasion of fires the shrine was 
additionally guarded by a troop of fierce bandogs.^ 

When the cathedral was thus duly prepared, the 
time came for what, in the language of those days, 
was termed the " translation " of the relics 

It was the year 1220, — in every sense, so the con- 
temporary chronicler observes,- an aus])icious moment. 
It seemed to the people of the time as if the long de- 
lay had been interposed in order that a good king and 
a good archbishop might be found together to solemnize 
the great event. The wild Kichard and the wicked 
John had gone to their account, and there was now 
seated on the throne the young llenry III.; his child- 
hood (for he was but a boy of thirteen), his un})retend- 
ing and inoffensive character, won for him a reputation 
which he hardly deserved, but which might well 1)0 
granted to him after such a predecessor. The first 
troubled years of his reign were finished ; the later 
calamities had not begun. He had just laid the first 
foundation of the new Abbey Church of Westminster, 
and all recollection of his irregular coronation at 
Gloucester had l)een effaced by his solemn inaugura- 
tion on j\Iay 17, the AVliitsunday of this very year. 
The primate to whose work the lot fell, was one whose 
name commands far more uncpiestioned res2:)ect than 
the weak King Henry; it was the Cardinal Arch- 
bishop, the great Stephen Langton, whose w^ork still 
remains amongst us in the familiar division of the 

1 Ellis's Original Letters, thin! series, iii KU. 

2 Robert of Gloucester, who oliserves all tlie coincidences in his 
metrical "Life of Becket," 2820, 



240 LANGTON. 

Bible into cliapteio, and in the Magna Cliarta, vvliith 
he was the chief means of wresting from the rehic- 
tant John. He was now advanced in years, recently 
returned from his long exile, and had just assisted at 
the coronation of the king at Westminster. The year 
also and the day, in that age of ceremonial observance 
of times and seasons, seemed providentially nuirked 
out for such an undei taking. The year was the fiftieth 
year from the murder, which thus gave it the appear- 
ance of a jubilee ; and it was a bissextile or leap year, 
and this seemed an omen that no day would be want- 
ing for the blessings to be procured through the Mar- 
tyr's intercession. The day also was marked by the 
coincidences which had made a lasting impression on 
the minds of that period, — Tuesday, the 7th of July : 
Tuesday, the fatal day of Becket's life; the 7th of 
July also, the same day of the month on which thirty 
years before the remains of his royal adversary, Henry 
II., had been carried to the vault of the Abbey of Fon- 
tevraud.i There must have been those living who re- 
membered the mournful spectacle : the solitary hearse 
descending from the castle of Chin on, where the un- 
happy king had died deserted by friends and children ; 
the awful scene when the scanty procession was met 
at the entrance of the abbey by Hichard, — when the 
face of the dead corpse was uncovered as it lay on the 
bier, marked with the expression of the long agony of 
djath, — when (according to the popular belief) blood 
gushed from the nostrils, as if to rebuke the unnatural 
son for his share in having thus brought his father's 
gray hairs in sorrow to the grave. 

1 All these coincidences are noticed by L.ington in a tract or sermon 
circulated by him in tlie following year, to keep up the memory of the 
Translation, published in Giles's Collection, ii. 276. 



LANGTON. 241 

The contrast of that scene with the funeral, which 
now took place on the anniversary of the day, m 1220, 
must have been, even to indifferent bystanders, most 
striking. It was indei'd aniagnificent spectacle. Such 
an assenil)l;ige had never been collected in any part 
of England before;' all the surrounding villages were 
filled,— 

" or liisliDps .'111(1 iiMiuts, jaiipi-s ami {lar-sons, 
Of earls, and ol" baioiLS, and of many kniglits thereto; 
Of Serjeants, and of s(iuires, and of husbandmen enow 
And of simple men eke of the land — so thick thither drew."^ 

The Archbishop had given two years' notice in a 
proclamation, circulated not only throughout England 
but throughout Europe ; and through the range of his 
episcopal manors had issued orders for maintenance 
to be provided for the vast multitude, not only in tlie 
city of Canterl)ury itself, ])ut on the various roads liy 
which they would approach.^ During the whole cele- 
bration, along the whole way from London to Canter- 
bury, hay and provender was given to all who asked;"* 
and at each gate of Canterbury,-'' in the four quarters 
of the city, and in tlie four licensed cellars, were placed 
tuns of wine, to be distributed gratis ; and on the dny 
of the festival wine ran freely through the gutters of 
the streets.^ 

On the eve of the appointed day the Archbishop, 
with Ikichard, Ijishop of Salisluiry, and the whole body 
of monks, headed by their prior, Walter, entered the 
crypt by night with psalms and hymns ; and after 
prayer and fasting, at midnight solemnly approached 

1 Waverley Annals; Gale's Scriptores, iii. 18.5. 
- Robert of Gloucester, 2848. ^ Waverley Annals ; Gale. 

* Tolistoire. See Note A. ^ Knyghton, 2430. 

•5 Archajologia, ix. 42 ; I'ulistoire. See Note A. 
IG 



242 LANGTON. 

the tomb and removed tlie stones which closed it, and 
with tears of joy ^ saw for the first time the remains of 
the saint. Four priests, distinguished for the sanctity 
of their lives, took out the relics, — first the head (then, 
as always, kept separate), and ottered it to be kissed. 
The bones were then deposited in a chest well studded 
with iron nails and closed with iron locks, and laid in 
a secret chamber. 

The next day a long procession entered the cathe- 
dral. It was headed by the young king, ■ — " King Hen- 
ry, the young child." Next was the Italian I'andulf, 
Bishop of Norwich, and Legate of the Holy See ; and 
Archbishop Langton, accompanied by his brother Pri- 
mate of France, the Archbishop of Rheims. With 
them was Hubert de Burgh, the Lord High Justiciary 
and greatest statesman of his time, and " four great 
lordlings, noble men and tried." On the shoulders of 
this distinguished band the chest was raised, and the 
procession moved forward. The king, on account of 
his tender age, was not allowed to take any part in 
bearing the sacred load. Onwards it was borne, and 
up the successive stages of the cathedral, till it reached 
the shrine awaiting its reception, eastward of the Pa- 
triarchal Chair,^ and there it was deposited. Mass 
was celebrated by the French Primate, in the midst of 
nearly the whole ^ episcopate of the province of Can- 
terbury, before an altar, which, placed in front of the 
screen of the choir, was visible to the vast congrega- 
tion assembled in the nave."^ The day was enrolled 
amongst the great festivals of the English Church as 

1 Robert of Gloucester, 2374. 

2 Polistoire. See Note A. 

3 Three only were absent. See Note A. 

* Dr. Pauli's History of England, iii. 529. 



APPROACH FKOM SANDWICH. 243 

the Feast of the Triinshitioii of Saint 'Jlionias. The 
expenses ineuired by tlie See of Canterbury were 
hardly paid oil' by Langton's fourth suceessor.^ 

And now began tlie long succession of pilgrimages 
which for three centuries gave Canterbury a place 
amongst the great resorts of Christendom, and which, 
through Chaucer's poem, have given it a lasting hold 
on the memory of Englishmen as long as English lit- 
erature exists. Let us endeavor, through the means of 
that poem and through other incidental notices, to re- 
produce the picture of a motle of life which has now 
entirely passed away from England, though it niay still 
be illustrated from some parts of the ('ontinent. 

There were during this period three great approaches 
to Canterbury. For ]:)ilgrims who came from the east- 
ern parts of Europe, Sandwich was the ordinary place 
of debarkation. From this point the kings of Eng- 
land on tiieir return from Franct', and the kings of 
France on their way to England, must commonly have 
made their journey. Two records of this route are pre- 
served by foreigners.'-^ Tn (jne respect the travellers of 
that age and this were on a level. As they crossed the 
Channel, they were dreadfully sea-sick, and " lay (jn the 
deck as if they were dead ; " Itut they had still life 
enough left to observe the various objects of the strange 
land that they were approaching. The white cliffs of 
Dover, as they rose into view aliove the sea, seemed 
''like mountains of snow;" of Dover Castle they speak 
as we might speak of Sebastopol, — " the strongest for- 
tress in Christendom." Sailing by this tremendous 

1 Knvgliton, 2730. 

- Sec the sliort aceomit of the visit of Sigismund in 1417, by Wen- 
(let-k ; and the lonj^er aecoiint of the visit of tlie Bohemian ambassador 
in 1446, as given iu Note 13. 



244 ArrnoAcii fro.m sorTiiAMiToN. 

place, — the work, they were tokl,uf evil spirits, — they 
arrived at Saiidwieh. It is striking to perceive the im- 
pression which that now decayed and deserted haven 
produced on their minds; they speak of it as we might 
speak of Liverpool or Portsmouth, — the resort of ships 
from all quarters, vessels of every size, — now seen by 
them for the first time ; and most of all, the agility of 
the sailors in running up and down the masts, — one, 
especially, absolutely incomparable. From this busy 
scene they moved onwards to Canterbury. Their ex- 
pectations had been highly raised by its fame in foreign 
parts ; at a distance, however, the point that cliietly 
struck them was the long line of leaden roof, un- 
like the tiled C(jvering of the continental cathedrals.^ 
What they saw at the Shrine of " Saint Thomas of 
Kandelberg," ^ as they called him in their own coun- 
try, shall be seen as we proceed. 

Another line of approach was along the old British 
track which led across the Surrey downs from South- 
ampton ; it can still be traced under the name^ of the 
Pilgrims' Way, or the Pilgrims' Lane, marked often by 
long lines of Kentish yews, — usually creeping half- 
way up the hills immediately above the line of cultiva- 
tion, and under the highest crest, — passing here and 
there a solitary chapel or friendly monastery, but avoid- 
ing for the most part the towns and villages and the 
regular roads, probably for the same reason as " in 
the days of Shamgar, the son of Anath, the highways 



1 " I)esu])»r stanno totiuu coiitegitur." (Leo vou Eotzmital, pp. 39, 
44.) Tliey observe tlie same of Salisl)ury. (Ibid., p. 46.) 

2 So he is called both by the Bohemians (see Note B) and by 
the Germans. (Wendeck's Life of the Emperor Sigismuud, chap, 
xlii.) 

'^ See ilr. AVav's account of the " I'iljrrims' Road," in Note D. 



"CANTERBURY TALES." 245 

were unoccu})ied, and the travellers walked tlirougii 
bye-ways." ^ 

This must have l)een the usual route for pilgrims 
from Normandy and from the West of England. lUit 
no doubt the most frequented road was that from Lon- 
don, celebrated in . Chaucer's poem of the " Canterbury 
Tales." It would be out of place here to enter on any 
general review of that remarkable work. All that can 
here be propo.sed is to examine how far the poem illus- 
trates, or is illustrated by, the Canterbury pilgrimage 
which suggested it. 

In tlie iirst })lace, we may observe that every element 
of society except the very higliest and lowest was rep- 
resented, — the knight, the yeoman, the prioress with, 
her attendant nuns and tliree priests, the monk, the 
friar, the merchant, the Oxford scholar, the lawyer, 
the squire, the five tradesmen, the cook, the shipman, 
the physician, the great clothier of Bath, the parish 
priest, the miller, the reeve, the manciple, the ap- 
paritor of the law courts, the seller of indulgences, 
and the poet himself. These no doubt are selected as 
the types of the classes who would ordinarily have 
been met on such an excursion. No one can read the 
account of their characters, still less the details of 
their conversation, without being struck by the ex- 
tremely miscellaneous nature of the company. On the 
one hand, we see how widely the passion for pilgrim- 
ages extended, how completely it swept into its vortex 
all the classes who now travel together in excursion- 
trains or on lihine steamboats. On the other hand, 
we see how liglit a touch it laid on the characters of 
those concerned, — how much of levity, how little 

1 ConipfU'e Anxilil's r.octiiros on Modern lli.^^tory (Lectnro TI), 
wliere tiie same ol)servation is made ou ancient roads trenerallv. 



246 "CANTERBURY TALES." 

of gravity, was thought compatible with an object pro- 
fessedly so serious. As relics took the place of all the 
various natural objects of interest which now occupy 
the minds of religious, literary, or scientific men, so 
pilgrimages took the place of modern tours. A pil- 
grim Avas a traveller with the same adventures, stories, 
pleasures, pains, as travellers now ; the very names by 
which we express the most listless wanderings are 
taken from pilgrimages to the most solemn places. 
If we may trust etymological conjectures, a "roamer" 
•was one who had visited the Apostles' graves at Eome ; 
and a "saunterer" one who had wandered through the 
" Sainte terre," or Holy Land ; and, in like manner, the 
easy "canter" of our modern rides is an abbreviation, 
comparatively recent, of the " Canterbury gallop," ^ de- 
rived, no doubt, f)'om the ambling pace of the Canter- 
bury pilgrims. Let us be thankful for the practice in 
this instance, as having given us in Chaucer's prologue 
an insight into the state of society in the fourteenth 
century such as nothing else can furnish. 

In the second place, we learn, from his selection of 
such a company and such a time as the vehicle of his 
tales, how widely spread was the fame of Canterbury 
as the resort of English pilgrims. Every reader, he 
felt, would at once understand the scene ; and tliat he 
felt truly is shown by the immense popularity of his 
work at the time. And further, thougli the details of 
the plan as laid down in his prologue are a mere crea- 
tion of the poet's fancy, yet the practice of telling 
stories on the journeys to and from Canterbury must 
have been common in order to give a likelihood to such 

1 Even in Jolmson's Diftionnry, "Canterbury gallop" is given as 
the full expression, of wliicli " ciinter " is only mentioned as a collo- 
quial corruption. 



"CANTERBURY TALES." 247 

a plan. It was even a custom for tlie bands of pilgrims 
to be accompanied by hired minstrels and story-tellers, 
as the friends of the practice maintained, that " with 
such solace the travail and weariness of pilgrims might 
be lightly and merrily borne out ; " as their enemies 
said, " that they might sing wanton songs, and then, 
if these men and W(jmen be half a month out in their 
pilgrimage, many of them shall be, half a year after, 
great jugglers, story-tellers, and liars." ^ And, in point 
of fact, the marvels that were related on these occa- 
sions, probably on the return from the wonder-working 
shrine, were such as to have given rise to the proverbial 
expression of a " Canterbury Tale," as identical with 
a fabulous story. It is noticed as such even as late as 
the time of Fuller,^ and although it is now probably 
extinct in England, it travelled with many other old 
provincialisms across the Atlantic ; and our brethren 
of the United States, when they come to visit our 
metropolitical city, are struck by the strange familiar- 
ity with which its name recurs to them, having from 
their earliest years been accustomed to hear a marvel- 
lous story followed by the exclamation, "What a Can- 
terbury!"'^ In conceiving the manner in wliicli these 
tales were related, a momcnit's reilection will show us 
that they were not told, as we often imagine, to the 
whole company at once. Every one wlio has ridden in 
a cavalcade of travellers along a mountain pathway — 
and such, more or less, were the roads of Eingland at 
the time of Chaucer — will see at once that this would 

1 Dialogue of Arclibishop Antiidel ami William Thorpe (Nichols's 
Erasmus, p. 18S). 

2 Fuller's Worthies, Kent (Proverhs). 

^ This observation I derived from an intelligent American clergy- 
num on a visit to Cauterburv. 



248 'CANTERBURY TALES." 

be impossible. Probably they were, in point of fact, re- 
lated in the midday lialts or evening meals of the party. 
In the present instance the poet represents the host as 
calling the story-teller out of the ranks to repeat the 
tale to him as the judge. "Do him come forth," he 
cries to the cook ; and to the monk, " liead forth, mine 
own Lord;" ' and the rest hear or not, according to their 
curiosity or their nearness, — a circumstance which to 
some e.K tent palliates the relation of some of the coarser 
stories in a company which contained the prioress, the 
nuns, the parson, and the scholar. 

Finally, we cannot fail to mark how thoroughly the 
time and season of the year falls in with the genius and 
intention of the poet. It was, he tells us, the month 
of April. Ev^ery year, as regular as " April with his 
showers sweet " " the drought of March hath pierced 
to the root," came round again the Pilgrims' start, — 

" When Zephyrus eke witli his sweet breatli 
luspired hath iu every holt and heath, 

The tender crops 

And small fowls are making melody 

That sleepen all night with open eye . . . 

Then longen folk to go on i)ilgrimages. 

And speciiilly from every shire's end 

Of England, to Canterhnry they wend 

The holy blissfnl martyr for to seek, 

That them hath holpen when that they were sick." 

These opening lines give the color to Chaucer's whole 
work ; it is in every sense the spring of English poe- 
try ; through every line we seem to feel the freshness 
and vigor of that early morning start, — as the merry 
cavalcade winds its way over the hills and forests of 
Surrey or of Kent. Never was the scene and atmos- 
phere of a poem more appropriate to its contents, more 
naturally sustained and felt through all its parts. 
1 Chaucer, 1G9G0, l.'iOSO. 



"CANTEIJBURY TALES." 249 

When from the general iUustrations furnished by 
the Canterbury pilgrimage we pass to the details of 
the poem, there is unfortunately but little light thrown 
by one upon the other. Not only are the stages of the 
route indistinctly marked, but the geography of the 
poem, though on a small scale, introduces incongruities 
almost as great as those of the " Winter's Tale " and 
the "Two Gentlemen of Verona." The journey, al- 
though at that time usually occupying three or four 
days, is compressed into the hours between sunrise 
and sunset on an April day : an additional pilgrim is 
made to overtake them within seven miles of Canter- 
bury, " by galloping hard for three miles ; " and the 
tales of the last two miles occupy a space equal to an 
eighth part of the whole journey of fifty miles. Still, 
such as the local notices are, they must be observed. 

It was at the Tabard Inn in South wark that the 
twenty-nhie pilgrims met. The site of the house is 
now marked by a humble tavern, — the Talbot Inn, No. 
75 High Street, Borough-road ; ^ a modern front faces 
the street, but at the back of a long passage a court- 
yard opens, surrounded by an ancient wooden gallery, 
not dating, it is said, beyond the sixteenth century. 
Some likeness, however, of the older arrangements is 
probably still preserved. Its former celebrity is com- 
memorated by a large picture or sign, hung from its 
balustrade, wliich represents, in faded colors, the Cav- 
alcade of the Pilgrims. Its ancient sign must have 
been the coat or jacket, now only worn by heralds, but 
then by noblemen ni war ; and it was no doubt se- 
lected as the rendezvous of the Pilgrims, as the last 
inn on the outskirts of London before entering on the 
Wilds of Surrey. Another inn, long since disappeared, 

' Alas! the last tnices of the Tahanl luii disajipeared in 1875. 



250 "CANTERBURY TALES." 

entitled " The Bell," was close by. The Tabard was 
doubtless, then, one of the most tlourishing hotels in 
London, — 

" The cliambers and the halls were wide." 

The host was a man of consideration, — 

" A fairer burgess was there none in Cheep ; " 
that is, Cheapside, then the abode of the wealthiest 
citizens of London. He seems to liave been a well 
known character; and his name, Henry I'ailey, was 
remembered even till the time of Elizabeth.^ 

It was on the monung of the 28th of April, "when 
the day began to spring," that the company set forth 
from the inn, lieaded by the host, who was to act as 
guide, and who "gathered them together in a flock." 
Those who have seen the move of an Eastern caravan 
of European travellers can best form a notion of the 
motley grou]i of grave and gay, old and young, that 
must liave often been then gathered on the outskirts 
of London. A halt took place "a little more than a 
pace," at the second milestone, at the spring called 
from this circumstance "the Waterings of St. Thomas ;"^ 
thus corresponding to the well-known halt which cara- 
vans make a few miles from Cairo, on the first day's 
march, to see whether all the party are duly assem 
bled and all the necessaries for the long journey duly 
provided. 

At half-past seven a.M they reached Deptford and 
(Treenwich, — 

"Lo Dp])tf()rd. and is half way jn-inie : 
Lo Greenwicii, there many a shrew is in." 

By midday, — 

" Lo Rocliestcr standeth here fast by." ^ 

1 Tyrwhiit. Treface to Chaucer, § 5. See also the elaborate ac' 
Cdunt of tlic inn in Knight's Chaucer's Tales. 

'^ Chaucer, 828. » Ibid., 1.390, .'jg.'iO. 



KNTHANrE INTO CAN TKHHUR V. 251 

Sittingl)Ourne was probably the place for refresh- 
ment ; 

" Before I come to Sidenbonrne," i 

implies that it was a point to be loolced for as a halt. 

And now they were approachinj^' the steep hills of 

the forest of Blean, wlien, probaldy anxious to join 

them before that long ascent, " at Boughton under 

Blee," the village which lies at the western foot of the 

hill. — a new companion overt(jok them, the servant of 

the rich canon, — so powerful an alchemist, that they 

are assured, as they go up the steep paved road, as it 

then was, now within seven miles from their destuia- 

tion, — 

" Thnt all the ground on wliicli we lie riding, 
Till that we come to Canterbury town, 
He eould all clean turn upside down, 
And pave it all of silver and of gold." - 

They now passed the point where all travellers ahmg 
that road must have caught the welcome sight of the 
central tower of Canterbury Cathedral, with the gilded 
Angel then shining on its summit. For a moment the 
tower is seen, and then disappears, as the road sinks 
again amidst the undulations of the wild country, 
which still retains the traces of what was the great 
forest of Blee, or Blean, — famous in recent times as 
the resort of the madman, or fanatic, who rallied round 
him, in 1838, the rude peasants of the neighboring 

' Chaucer, G428. In the German account of Sigismund's visit, it 
is mentioned as " Signpotz." (Wendeck, chap, xlii.j 

2 Chaucer, 1G024, 10066. It is an ingenious conjecture of Tvr- 
whitt, that a great confusion has been here introduced ; that the " Nun's 
Tale" was intemled to be on the return from Canterbury; and hence 
the otherwi.se difficult expression of the "five miles" silence before 
she begins, and of the " three miles " gallop of the canon's servant to 
overtake them. But as the text stands in Tyrwhitt's edition, the order 
must be as I have represented it. The arrangement of the manu- 
scripts of Chaucer is evidently very doulttful. 



252 ENTRANCE INTO CANTEUBURY 

villages in the thicket of P.osenden Wood. But they 
were now at the last halting-place, — just where the 
forest ends, just where the hilly ascent rises and falls 
for the last time, — 

"Wist ye not where standeth a little town, 
Which that yclepetl is Bob up and down. 
Under the Blee in Canterbury way." i 

There can be little doubt that this " little town " was 
the old village of Harbledown, clustered round the an- 
cient lazar-house of Lanfranc.^ Its situation on the 
crest of the hill, under the forest of Blean, suggested 
to the pilgrims the familiar name by which it is here 
called. They had but to go " np and down " once more, 
and the cathedral burst npon them. It was now, ac- 
cording to the poet's calculation, four in the afternoon, 
and they would easily reach Canterbury before sunset. 

Unfortunately, he 

" wlio left half told 
The story of Canibii.scan bold," 

has left Unfinished the story of the travellers. The 
])lan was'to have embraced the arrival at Canterbury, 
and the stories of what there befell to be told on their 
return, and the supper at the Tabard, when the host 
was to award the prize to the best. For lovers of 
Chaucer's simple and genial poetry this is much to 
l)e lamented; but for historical purposes the gap is in 
a great measure filled by the "Supplementary Tale,"''^ 

• Cliauccr, 1G9."jO. The explanation hero i>;iven has been contested 
l)y Mr. Furiiivall. 

^ It was sometimes called the IlospitaJe de hosro de BIran. (Dug- 
dale, vol. i. part ii. p. 053.) 

3 The " Supplementary Tale " is jirintcd in Urry's edition of Chau- 
cer, from a manuscript which is now lost ; and is reprinted from 
thence in Wright's edition of Chaucer, Percy Society, xxvi. 191-.318, 
from wliom I iiave quoted it, modernizing the spelling to make it 
iutellisriljJe. 



JUBILEES. 253 

evidently written witliin a short time after tlie poet's 
death, which relates the story of their arrival, and a 
few of their adventures in the eity. By the help of 
this, and whatever other light can be thrown on the 
subject, we may endeavor to reproduce the general 
aspect which Canterbury and its pilgrims presented on 
their arrival. 

A great difference doubtless would have been made 
according to the time when we entered Canterbury, 
whether with sucli an occasional group of pilgrims as 
might visit the siirine at ordinary seasons, or on tlie 
great days of Saint Thomas; either the winter festival 
of his " Martyrdom," on the HiJtli of L)ecembcr, or the 
summer festival of the " Transhition ' of his relics, on the 
7th of July,^ which (as falling in a more genial season) 
was far more frequented. Still greater would have 
been the difference had we been there at one of the ju- 
bilees, — that is, one of the fiftieth anniversaries of the 
"Translation;" when indulgences were granted to all 
who came, and the festival lasted for a fortnfeht, dating 
from midnight on the vigil of the feast. l*|iere were, 
from the first consecration of the shrine t'5 its final 
overthrow, six such anniversaries, — 1270, 1320, 1370, 
1420, 1470, 1520. What a succession of pictures of 
English history and of the religious feeling of the time 
would be revealed if we could but place ourselves in 
Canterbury as those successive waves of pilgrimage 
rolled through the i)lace, bearing with them all their 
various impressions of the state of the world at that 
time ! On one of those occasions, in 1420, no less 
than a hundred thousand persons were thus collected. 

1 On this (lay Ijefj.aii tlic animal Canterbnry Fair, which continned 
long after the cessation of the Pilgriniay:e, under the name of " Beck- 
et's Fair." (Sonmer'.s Canterbury, p. 124.) 



254 JUBILEES. 

Tliuy came from all parts, but cliieliy from the British 
domiiiioiis, at that time — immediately after the great 
battle of Agincourt — extending far over the neighbor- 
ing continent. Englishmen, with their language just 
struggling into existence ; Scotch, Irish, and Welsh, 
with their different forms of Celtic ; Frenchmen and 
Normans, and the inhabitants of the Channel Islands, 
pouring forth their questions in French, — are amongst 
those expressly stated to have been present.^ How, 
various, too, the motives, — some, such as kings and 
ministers of state, from p(jlicy and ancient usage ; 
others merely for the excitement of a long journey 
with good coni})aui(ins , uthers travelling from shrine 
to shrine, as men n(j\v travel from watering-place to 
watering-place, for the cure of some obstinate disorder ; 
some from the genuine feeling of religion, that ex- 
presses itself in lowly hearts under whatever is the 
established form of the age ; some from the grosser 
superstition of seeking to make a ceremonial and lo- 
cal observance the substitute for moral acts and holy 
thoughts. AVhat a sight, too, must have been pre- 
sented, as all along the various roads through the long 
summer day these heterogeneous bands — some on 
horseback, some on foot — moved slowly along, with 
music and song and merry tales, so that "every town 
they came thro', wiiat with the noise of their singing, 
and with the sound of their piping, and with the 
jangling of their Canterbury bells, and with the l)ark- 
ing of the dogs after them, they made more noise than 
if the King came there with all his clarions and many 
other minstrels. . . . And when one of the pilgrims 
that goeth barefoot striketh his toe upon a stone, and 
hurteth him sore, and maketh him bleed," then "his 
1 Soniucr, part i., Appemlix, no. xliv. 



THE INNS. 235 

fellow sings a song, or else takes out of his bosom a 
bagpipe to drive away with wit and mirth the hurt of 
his fellow." * Probably at the first sight of the cathe- 
dral this discordant clamor would be exchanged for 
more serious sounds, — hymns, and exhortations, and 
telling of beads, — even Chaucer's last tale between 
Harbledown and Canterbury is a sermon ; and thus 
the great masses of human beings would move into 
the city. 

Their first object would be to find lodgings. It is 
probable that to meet this want there were many more 
inns at Canterbury than at j)resent. At the great sanc- 
tuary of Einsiedlen, in Switzerland, almost every house 
in the long street of the straggling town w^hich leads 
up to the monastery is decorated with a sign, amount- 
ing altogether to no less than fifty. How many of the 
present inns at Canterbury date from that time cannot 
perhaps be ascertained. One — the Star Inn, in St. Dun- 
stan's Parish, w^hicli is supposed to have been the recep- 
tacle of the pilgrims who there halted on their entrance 
into the town — has long since been absorbed in the 
surrounding houses. Lut the site and in part the 
buildings of the lodgings which, according to the " Sup- 
plementary Tale," received the twenty-nine pilgrims of 
Chaucer, can still be seen, although its name is gone 
and its destination altered.- "The Chequers of the 
Hope " occupied the antique structure which, with its 
broad overhanging eaves, forms so picturesque an ob- 
ject at the corner of High Street and Mercery Lane. 
It was repaired on a grand scale by Prior Chillenden,''^ 

1 William Tliorpo's I':\;iiiiin;itiim, in \icli..ls's ICrasiims, p. 1S8. 

2 " At Chekers of tiic IIojx' tli:it vwry luau dutli know."— Sii/'pfc- 
mentfini Tale, 14. 

'^ Wharton's An^Ha S.aci'a. i. lt'{. " Unnm liospitiuni faiiiosiiin 
vocatum ' Le Clicker' cuia uliis ili\ersis luan.sioniluis, (/(_<//(///(/■ ((^/./Z 



256 THE CHEQUERS. 

shortly after the time of Chaucer. Its vicinity to tlie 
great gate of the precincts naturally pointed it out as 
one of the most eligible quarters for strangers, whose 
main object was a visit to the shrine ; and the remains 
still observable in the houses, which for more than two 
centuries have been occupied by the families of the 
present inhabitants,^ amply justify the tradition. It 
was a venerable tenement, entirely composed, like 
houses in Switzerland, of massive timber, chietly oak 
and chestnut. An open oblong court received the })il- 
grims as they rode in. In the upper story, approached 
by stairs from the outside, which have now disa})peared, 
is a spacious chamber, supported on wooden pillars, and 
covered by a high pitched wooden roof, traditionally 
known as "the Dormitory of the Iluiulred IJeds." 
Here the mass of the i)ilgrims sle})t ; and many must 
have been the prayers, the tales, the jests, with which 
those old timbers have rung, — many and deep the 
slumbers which must have refreshed the wearied trav- 
ellers who by horse and foot had at last reached the 
sacred city. Great, too, must have been the interest 
with which they walked out of this crowded dormi- 
tory at break of day on the flat leads which may be 
still seen running round the roof of the court, and com- 
manding a full view of the vast extent of the south- 
ern side of the cathedral. Witli the cathedral itself a 



can't." Does tliis meiiii " repaired " or " Inxilt " ? If tlie latter, tlie 
reception of Chaucer's " pilj^rims in the Cheiiuers " is an anachro- 
nism of the " Supplementary Talc." He also built the Crown Inn. 
But it may be questioned whether the " Cheker " is not the inn {di- 
versorium) mentioned in connection with the Cheker or snrctin'um 
(counting-house) in the precincts adjoining the present Library. (Wil- 
lis's Conventual Buildings of Christ Cinirch, p. 102.) 

1 To the obliging attention of tlie present occupants I owe the in- 
formation here given. 



THE CONVENTS. 257 

communication is said to exist by means of a subter- 
raneous gallery, of which the course can be in part 
traced under the liouses on the western side of Mercery 
Lane. 

Besides the inns, were many other receptacles for the 
pilgrims, both higli and low. Kings and great persons 
often lodged in St. Augustine's Abbey. Over the gate 
of the abbey a sculptured figure represents a pilgrim 
resting with a wallet i>n his liack. Many would find 
shelter in the various hos])itals or convents, — of St. 
John, St. Gregory, St. Lawrence, and St. Margaret ; of 
the Gray, of the Black, and of the Austen Friars. The 
Hospital of Eastbridge both traced its foundation to 
Saint Thomas, whose name it bore, and also was in- 
tended for the reception of pilgrims ; ^ twelve of whom 
were, espeL-ially if sick, to be provided with beds and 
attendance. Above all, the priory attached to the ca- 
thedral would feel bound to provide for the reception 
of guests on whose contributions and su})port its fame 
and wealth so greatly depended. It is Ijy bearing this 
in mind that we are enabled to understand how so 
large a part of conventual buildings was always set 
aside for strangers. Thus, for example, by far the 
greater portion of the gigantic monastery of the Grande 
Chartreuse was intended to be occupied by guests. The 
names of "Aula Burgundia;," "Aula Lrancire," " Aula 
Aquitaniie," still mark the assignment of the vast halls 
to the numerous pilgrims from all parts of feudal and 
at that time still divided France, who, swarming from 
the long galleries opening into their private chambers, 
were there to be entertained in common. So on a 
lesser scale at Canterbury : the long edifice of old gray 
stone, long apportioned as the residence of " the elev- 

1 Dugdale, vol. i. juirt ii. p. 91. 
17 



258 ENTRANCi: INTO THE CATHEDRAL. 

enth canon," overlooking " the Oaks," then the garden 
of the convent, was the receptacle for the greater 
guests;! that at the southwest corner of the "(Jreen- 
court," for the ortliiiary guests, who were brought 
through the gate of the court, thence under thi^ old 
wooden cloister, which still in part remains, and then 
lodged in the Strangers' Hall, with a steward appointed 
to look after all their wants. ^ 

In the city many preparations were made for the 
chief festival of Saint Thomas. A notice was placed on 
a post in the " King Street," opposite tiie " Court Hall," 
ordering the provision of lodging for ]>ilgrims. Plxpen- 
sive pageants were got up, in whicli the " JMartyrdom " 
was enacted, on the eve of the festival.^ Accounts are 
still preserved of payments for " Saint Thomas's gar- 
ment," and the "knights' armour,'' and gunpowder for 
fireworks, and " staves and banners," to be carried out 
before the "morris pykes " and the gunners.* 

From these various receptacles the pilgrims would 
stream into the precincts. The outside aspect of the 
cathedral can be imagined without much difficulty, — a 
wide cemetery, which with its numerous gravestones, 
sucli as that on the south side of I'eterborough Ca- 
thedral, occupied tlie vacant space still called the 
Churchyard, divided from the garden beyond by the 
old Norman arch since removed to a more convenient 
spot. In the cemetery were interred such pilgrims as 
died during their stay in Canterbury. The external 

1 Somner, Appendix, ]>. 13, no. xvii. 

2 Somner, p. 93. 

3 ArcluBologi.i, xxxi. 207-20!). Such plays were prohal.lv oenoml 
on this festival. There is in the archives of Norwicli Cathedral a record 
of their performance on the Eve of Saint Tiiomas, at the ancient Chapel 
of St. William, the Patron Saint of Norwich, ou Household Heath. 

* Hasted, iv. 573. 



Norman Porch. 



THE NAVE. 259 

aspect of the cathedral itself, with the exception of 
the numerous statues which then lilled its now vacant 
niches, must have been much what it is now. Not so 
its interior. Urioht colors on the roof, im the windows, 
on the monuments ; hangings su,s[)endi'd from the rods 
which may still be seen running from pillar to pillar ; 
chapels and altars and cliantries intercepting the view, 
where now all is clear, must have rendered it so differ- 
ent that at first we should hardly recognize it to l»e the 
same building. 

At the church door the miscellaneous com])any of 
pilgrims had to arrange themselves " every one after 
his degree," — 

"The courtesy f^aii to rise 
Till the kiiiglit of oeiitleness tliut knew right well the guise. 
Put forth the jtrelate, the parson, and his fere." i 

Here they encountered a moidv, wlio with the "spren- 
gel " sprinkled all their luuids with holy water. After 
this, 

" The knight went with his eoinpeeis round the holy shrine, 
To do that tiiey were eonie for, and after for to dinc>." 

The rest are described as waiting for a short time be- 
hind, the friar trying to get the ' sprengel " as a device 
to see the nun's face; whilst the others — the "par- 
doner, and the miller, and other lewd sots " — amused 
themselves with gaping at the fine painted windows, of 
which the renniants in the choir are still a chief orna- 
ment of the cathedral, but wliich then filled the nave 
also. Their great difficulty was — not unnaturally — 
to make out the subjects of the pictures. 

" ' He heareth a ball-staff,' quoth the one, ' and also a rake's end ; ' 
' Thou failest,' quoth the uiiller, ' tliou hast not well thy mind ; 
It is a spear, if thou canst see, with a priek set before. 
To push adowu his eueniy, and through the shoulder bore.' " 

1 Supplementary Tale, 134. 



2C0 THE MARTYRDOM. 

'•Peace;' quotli the host of Southwark, breaking in 
upon this idle talk, — 

" ' Let stand the window glazed ; 
Go up and do your offerings, ye seenietli lialf amazed.' " ^ 

At last, therefore, they fall into the tide of pilgrims, 
and we have now to follow them through the church. 
There were two courses adopted, — sometimes they paid 
their devotions at the shrine first, and at the lesser olj- 
jects afterwards ; sometimes at the shrine last. The 
latter course will be most convenient to })ursue for 
ourselves.- 

The first object was the Transept of the INIartyrdom. 
To this they were usually taken through the dark pas- 
sage under the steps leading to the choir. It was great- 
ly altered after the time of the murder : the column by 
which Becket had taken his stand had been removed to 
clear the view of the wooden altar erected to nuirk the 
spot where he fell ; the steps up wdiich he was ascend- 
ing were removed, and a wall, part of which still re- 
mains,'^ was drawn across the transept to facilitate the 
arrangements of the entrance of great crowds. The 
Lady Chapel, which had then stood in the nave, liad 
now taken the place of the chapels of St. lienedict and 
St. Blaise, which were accommodated to their new des- 
tination. The site, however, of the older Lady Chapel 
in the nave was still marked by a stone column. Cn 
this column — such was the story told to foreign pil- 
grims — had formerly stood a statue of the Virgin, 
which had often conversed with Saint Thomas as he 
prayed before it. The statue itself was now shown m 

1 Supplementary Tale, 150. 

- TIic following account is taken chiefly from Erasmus's Tilgrimage, 
with sucli occasional illustrations as arc furnished from other sources. 
3 Tlie rest was removed in 17.'54 (Hasted, iv .'520 ) 



THE CRYPT. 261 

the choir, covered witli pearls aiul precious stones.^ 
An inscription, - over the door, still legible in the seven- 
teenth century, rudely indicated the history of the whole 
scene, — 

Est sacer intra locus venerabilis atque beatus 
Piffisul ubi Sanctus Tlionias est niartyrisatus." 

Those who visited the spot in the close of the fifteenth 
century might have seen the elaborate representation 
of the "Martyr" in the stained glass of the transept 
window. All that now remains is the long central 
band, giving the figures of the donors, King Edward 
IV. and his (pieen, the ])rincesses his daughters, and 
the two uidiajipy childi'cn that i)erislicd in tlie Tower. 

Uefore the wooden altar the pilgrims knelt, and its 
guardian priest exhibited to them the various relics 
confided to his especial charge. But the one which sur- 
passed all others was the rusty fragment of Le Kret's 
sword, which was presented to each in turn to be 
kissed. The foreign pilgrims, by a natural mistake, 
inferred, from the sight of the sword, that the " Martyr " 
had suffered death by beheading.'^ 'They were next led 
down the steps on the right to the cryjit, where a new 
set of guardians received them. On great occasions 
the gloom of the old Norman aisles was broken by the 
long array of lamps suspended from the rings still seen 
in the roof, eacdi surrounded by its crown of thorns 
Here were exhibited some of the actual relics of Saint 
Thomas, — part of his skull, cased in silver, and also 
presented to be kissed; and hanging aloft the cele- 
brated shirt"* and drawers of hair-cloth, which had 

1 Leo von T\i)t/.niitnl, ]>. l.')4; Note R. On tlie wiiule, it seems nioie 
lil^ely tliat tli(^ L;i(ly Cbajiel in the nave is meant tlian tliat in tlie civpt. 
But tliis is donbtlul. 

2 Somner, p. '.II. ^ See Leo von Eot/.mital ; Note B. 

* So it was seen by Erasniu.s. (See Nieliuls, p. 47.) Li 14G.") it seems 



2G2 THE CHOIR. 

struck such awe into the hearts of the monks on the 
night of his death.^ This was all that ordinary pil- 
grims were allowed to see ; but if they were persons of 
rank, or came with high recommendations, they were 
afterwards permitted to' return, and the prior himself 
with lights exhibited the wonders of the Chapel of Our 
Lady Undercroft, carefully barred with iron gates, but 
within glittering with treasures beyond any other like 
shrine in England. Some portion of the stars of bright 
enamel may still be seen on the roof. 

Emerging from the crypt, the pilgrims mounted the 
steps to the choir, on the north side of which the great 
mass of general relics were exhibited. ]\Iost of them 
were in ivory, gilt, or silver coffers. The bare list of 
these occupies eight folio pages, and comprises upwards 
of four hundred items ;'-^ some of these always, but 
especially the arm of Saint George,^ were offered to 
be kissed. 

"Tlie holy relics each man with his mouth 
Kissed, as a goodl}' monk tlie names told and taught." 

Those who were curious as to the gorgeous altar-cloths, 
vestments, and sacred vessels were also here indulged 
with a sight of these treasures in the grated vault be- 
neath the altar. 

Leaving the choir, they were brought to the sacristy 

to have been suspended (much as the Black Prince's coat) over the lid 
of the shrine. (Leo von Rotzmital, p. 154 ; Note B.) A fragment ap- 
parently of the original tomb was here shown ; namely, a slip of lead 
inscribed Avith the title by which he was sometimes known, — " Tiioinas 
Acrensis." See Nichols, pp. 47, 120. 

1 See " Murder of Becket," p. 116. 

2 As given in an Inventory of 1.31.5. See Nichols's Erasmus, pp. 124, 
15.5; Dart's Anti(juities of Canterbury, Appendi.v, ])p. iv-xviii. 

3 The name is not given by Erasmus (j). 48) ; but the prominence 
given in Leo's account to the right arm of " (jur dear Lord, the Knight 
St. George " (Note B) seems to fix it. 



ST. ANDREW'S l\)WEn. 263 

in the northern aisle in St. Andrew's Tower. Here, 
again, the ordinary class of pilgrims was excluded ; but 
to the privileged were shown, besides the vast array of 
silk vestments and golden candlesticks, what were far 
more valualjle in their eyes, — the rude pastoral staff 
of pearwood, with its crook of black horn, the rough 
cloak, and the bloody handkerchief of the " Martyr " 
himself. There was, too, a chest cased with black 
leather, and opened with the utmost reverence on 
bended knees, containing scraps and rags of linen, 
with which (the story must be told throughout) the 
saint wiped his forehead and blew his nose.^ 
y And now they have reached the holiest place. Be- 
hind the altar, as has been already observed, was erected 
the shrine itself. '>: What seems to have impressed every 
pilgrim who has left the record of his visit, as absolutely 
peculiar to Canterbury, was the long succession of as- 
cents, by which " church seemed," as they said, " to lie 
piled on church," and "a new temple entered as soon 
as the first was ended." ^ This unrivalled elevation of 
the sanctuary of Canterbury was partly necessitated by 
the position ol the original crypt, partly liy the desire 
to construct the slirine immediately above the place of 
the saint's original grave, — that place itself being beauti- 
fied by the noble structure whicli now encloses it. 1^1» V 
these steps the pilgrims mounted, many of them piob- 
ably on tlieir knees ; and the long and deep indentations 
in the surface of the stones even now bear witness to 
the devotion and the number of those wdio once as- 

1 Nichols's Erasmus, pp. 49,57, ITjC. I quote the origiual wonls : 
" Fratjnicnta linteorum lacera pleruiiKiue iiuu'ci vestigium servautia. 
His, ut aici)aut, vir pins extergehat sudoiem e facie, sive collo, j)ituitam 
a naribus, aut si cjuid esset, siuiilinui soidium (juil)us uon vacent hu- 

corpuscula." 

2 Note B, aud Nichols's Erasmus, j>. 50. 



•264: TRINITY CHAPEL. 

ceiided to the sacred platform of the eastern chapeL 
The popular hjnin to Saint Thomas, if it was not sug- 
gested, must at least have been rendered doubly im- 
pressive, by this continual ascent : — 

" Tu, per Tliomae sanj,miiiem 

Quern pro te iinpeudit, 

Fac DOS Christo scandere 

Quo Thomas uscendit. 
Gloria et lionore corouasti euin Domine 
Et constituisti eum supra opera manuuin tuarum 
lit ejus mentis et precibus a Geheuna; iuceiidiis lil)eremur." i 

Near these steps, not improbably,^ they received ex- 
hortations from one or more of the monks as they 
approached the sacred place. 

Trinity Chapel in the thirteenth century, immedi- 
ately after the erection of the shrine, must have pre- 
sented a very different aspect from that which it wore a 
few generations later. The shrine then stood entirely 
alone; no other mortal remains had yet intruded into 
the sacred solitude. Oradnally this rule was broken 
through ; and the pilgrim of the fifteenth century nuist 
have beheld the shrine flanked on the right hand and 
the left by the tombs of the lilack Prince and of Henry 
IV., then blazing with gold and scarlet. Why Arch- 
bisliop Courtenay was brought into so august a company, 
is not clear ; it was against his own wish, and is said 
to have been at the express command of King Richard 
J I., who was at Canterbury at tlie time.'^ These, how- 
ever, were the only exceptions. 

' AVliarton's Aiiglia Sacra, i. 121. 

- Surli seems the most prohahle explanation of the stone desk in 
tlie corresponding position in Gloucester Cathedral. Near the same 
place in Cant(>rliury Cathedral in later times was erected the desk for 
the Bible and Fo.x's Martyrs. 

'■^ See "Edward the Black rriu<e," p. 17.5. 



THE CKOWN. — THE SHHINPL 2G5 

The pilgrims were tirst led beyond the shrine to the 
easternmost apse, where was preserved a golden like- 
ness of the head of the saint/ richly stndded with 
jewels. This either contained, or had contained, the 
scalp or crown of the saint, severed by Le Bret's sword ; 
and this probably was the altar often mentioned in 
offerings as the " Altar of the Head," ^ which gave its 
name to the eastern apse, called, from this, " Becket's 
Crown." 

We now arrive at the shrine. Although not a trace 
of it remains, yet its position is ascertainable beyond 
a doubt, and it is easy from analogy and description to 
imagine its appearance. Two rude representations of it 
still exist, — one in a manuscript drawing in the British 
Museum, the other in an ancient stained window in 
Canterbury Cathedral.^ We are also assisted by the 
accurate descriptions which have been preserved of the 
Shrine of St. Cuthbert of ])urham,'* and by the only 
actual shrine''^ now remaining in England, — that of 

1 See Nicluils, pp. ll.'j, UG, 118. Tliere is !i confusion about tlie 
position of this relic ; but on tlie wbole, tiiere can be little doubt tliat 
it must at times have been exliibited in this ])lace. When the shrine 
was opened, so much of the skull was found with the rest of the bones, 
that a doubt naturally arose whetlier the large separate portion of tiie 
skull shown elsewhere was not an imj)ostnre. See Declaration of 
Faith, 1539; Nichols, p. 2.3G ; and Notes C and F. 

2 The oricjin of the name of "Hecket's frown" is doubtful. Pro- 
fessor Willis (History of Canterbury Cathedral, p. 50) regards it as 
an architectural term. Mr. "Way (see Note F) regards it as derived 
from the scalp. 'I'he (luestion is one which admits of much anticjuarian 
argument. 

^ A fac-simile of the drawing in the Cotton MS. is annexed, 
with an explanatory note. An engraving and exjdanation of the 
representation in tlie Canterbury window will be found in Note K. 

* See Willis's Canterbury Catiiedral, p. 100. 

^ In Chester Cathedral part of the Shrine of St. Werburga re- 
mains, converted into the episcojial throne. In Hereford Cathedral 
the shrine of St. Ftheli)ert remains, but is a mere tomb. In foreign 
churches the shrines of the Three Kings at Cologne, of St. Ferdinand 



266 THE SHRINE. 

Edward the Confessor in Westminster Abbey. The 
space which it covered may still be traced by the 
large purple stones which surround the vacant square. 
Above its eastern extremity was fixed in the roof a 
gilded crescent, still remaining. It has been conjec- 
tured, with some reason, that it may have been brought 
by some crusading pilgrim from the dome of an Ori- 
ental mosque, and that round it a group of Turkish 
Hags and horsetails hung from the roof over the shrine 
beneath, — like the banners of St. George's Chapel, 
Windsor.^. At its western extremity, separating it from 
the Patriarchal Chair, which stood where the Commu- 
nion Table is now placed, extended the broad pavement 
of mosaic, with its border of circular stones, ornamented 
with fantastic devices, chieHy of the signs of the Zo- 
diac, similar to that which surrounds the contemporary 
tombs of Edward the Confessor and Henry III. at 
Westminster. Immediately in front of this mosaic 
was placed the " Altar of St. Thomas," at the head of 
the shrine ; and before this the pilgrims knelt, where 
the long furrow in the purple pavement still marks the 
exact limit to which they advanced. I'efore them rose 
the shrine, secure with its strong iron rails, of which 
the stains and perhaps the fixings can still be traced 
in the broken pavement around. Eor those who were 
allowed to approach still closer, there were iron gates 

at Seville, and of St. Remigius at Rheims are perhaps the nearest 
likenesses. For the Shrine of Edward the Confessor I may refer to 
my " Historical Memorials of Westniinster Abbey," chap. iii. To tliis 
instance must now be added the Shrine of St. Alban, so ingeniously 
discovered and restored in 1872. 

1 See the grounds for this explanation in Note G. In the Museum 
at Munich is a white silk mitre of the twelfth century, embroidered on 
one side with the martyrdom of Saint Stephen, on the other with that 
of Saint Thomas ; over Saint Stephen are .stars, over Saint Thomas 
a hand of Providence irilh tn^o creacents. 



r- 







BECKliT S SHlilXK 



NOTE 

TO THE ENGUAVING OF THE SUKINE OF BECKET. 

Tlie acconipaiiyinjij engraving is a fac-simile of a <lra\viiig of the 
sliriiie ill ink, un a folio page of the Cotton M8., 'I'ib. E, viii. fol. 
2 ',9. It has been alreaily engraved in Dugdale's Monasticon, i. 10, 
and ]iartial]y iu Nichols's Erasmus, pp. 118, 165, but with several devi- 
ations from tlie original. It is here given exactly as it appears in the 
manuscript, even to the bad drawing of the end of the shrine, and the 
effects of the fire which partially destroyed the manuscript in 1731, 
visible iu the mutilated engravings of the page. It will be observed, 
on a comparison with the appearance in Dugdale and Nichols, that the 
skull and the bones on the lid of the iron chest are not (as there rep- 
resented) I'aiscd, but lie flat on the surface; and are therefore, in all 
probability, not meant to portray the actual relics (which were inside), 
but only a carving or painting of them on the lid. The piece of the 
skull is also here exhibited in a form much more conformable to the 
written account tlian would lie inferred from Dugdale's inexact copy. 

Tlie liurned inscriptions may be restored thus, from Dugdale's Latin 
translation of them, and from Stow's Annals (Anno 1.5;58), wliose de- 
scription of tlie shrine is evidently taken from this manuscript, before 
it had been mutilated by the fire of 1731 : — 

(1) The title: — 

The form (uid Jj(/ure of the Shrine of Tho : Berlct of Ccniterlmry. 

(2) A statement respecting tlie three finials of the canojiy : — 
Silver (jilt GO ounces. [Silver gi]// 80 ounces. Silver (jilt GO ounces. 

(3) A description of the .shrine: — 

Tein : II. 8. All above the stone ivork iras first of nmoj, jeioeJs of (jold sot 
ivitli stone [covered with plates of .izohlj. ivroioiht upon with f/olil wier, 
then (Kjuin with Jewells, ijold, as /j/v)[()clies, images, angels, rings] 10 or 
12 to'/ether, cramped with (jold into the (jround (f [fold, the .s-[poils of 
which filled two] cliests such as G or 8 men could but convey on out of 
the church. At [one side was a stone with] an Angell of (jold poi/ntin() 
thereunto„offered titer bi/ a Icinrj of France, [which King Henry put] 
into a rin(j, and wear it on his i thumb. 

(4) A description of the chest (not a table, as Mr. Nichols, p. 118, 
erroneously infers, from Dugdale's Latin translation of the inseri]ition, 
but the identical iron chest de]iosited by Laiigton witliin the golden 
slirine) ; — 

77;/.'; chest ofirfm roH[tained the] Jiones (f Thomas I)e(d[et, skull and] 
(;//, with the wounde [of his death] and the pece cut [out of his skull laid 
in the same AvoundJ. 

1 Diigdalp. in his Latiu translation (p. 10), in.serts here the word rapacious, 
" rapaci pollice." 



THE SHRINE. 260 

which opened. The hjwer part of the shrine was of 
stone, sup})orted ou arches; and between these arches 
the sick and lame })ilgrinis were allowed to ensconce 
themselves, rubbing their rheumatic backs or diseased 
legs and arms against the marble which brought them 
into the nearest contact with the wonder-working body 
within. The shrine, ])roperly so called, rested on these 
arches, and was at lirst invisible. It was concealed by 
a wooden canopy, ])rol)aI)ly ]»ainted outside with sacrcil 
pictures, suspeutled from the roof; at a given signal ' 
this canojjy was drawn up by ropes, and the shrine 
then appeared blazing with gold and jewels; the 
wooden sides were jilated with gold, and damasked 
with gold wire ; cramped together on this gold ground 
were mnumerable jewels, i)earls, sapphires, balassas, 
diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, and also, "in the midst 
of the gold," rings, or cameos, of sculptured agates, 
(;arnelians, and onyx stones.^ 

As soon as this magnificent sight was disclosed, 
every one dropped on his knees ; and i)robably the 
tinkling of the silver bells attached to the canopy 
would indicate the moment to all the hundreds of 
pilgrims in wdiatever part of the cathedral they might 
be.*^ The body of the samt in the inner iron chest was 
not to be seen except by mounting a ladder, which 

^ This is expressly stated with regard to St. Cuthhert's Slirine. 
(Willis's Canterbury Cathedral, p. lOOj Huine's Aecuinit of Durham 
Cathedral, pp. 52-5.'j.) 

- This account is taken from Stow's Chronicle, 1.5.3S, and the Cotton 
MS. description of the Shrine. Both are given in Nichols's Erasmus, 
pp. 16G, 1G7. Also "A Relation of England under Henry VII." by a 
Venetian (Camden Society). 

3 Compare Raine's Durham, p. 54. At St. Cuthhert's Shrine 
were "fine sounding silver hells attached to tlie ropes, which at the 
drawing up of the ropes mad'' such a goodly sound that it stirred all 
the peojde's hearts in the chureli." 



270 THE REGALE OF FRANCE. 

would be but rarely allowed. Dut whilst the votaries 
knelt around, the I'rior, or some other great officer of 
the monastery, came forward, and with a white wand 
touched the several jewels, naming the giver of each, 
and, for the benefit of foreigners, adding the French 
name of each, with a description of its value and mar- 
vellous qualities. A complete list of them^ has been 
preserved to us, curious, but devoid of general interest. 
There was one, however, which far outshone the rest, 
and hideed was supposed to be the finest in Europe.^ 
It was the great carbuncle, ruby, or diamond, said to 
be as large as a hen's egg or a tliumb-nail, and com- 
monly called " The Eegale of France." The attention 
of the spectators was riveted by tlie figure of an angel 
pointhig to it. It had been given to the original tomb 
in the crypt by Louis YII. of France, when here on 
his pilgrimage. There were two legends current about 
it. One was that the king had refused it to Saint 
Thomas when alive.^ The other was told to the pil- 
grims of the fifteenth century. " The king," so ran the 
story, " had come thither to discharge a vow made in 
battle, and knelt at the shrine, with the stone set in 
a ring on his finger. The Archbishop, who was pres- 
ent, entreated him to present it to the saint. So costly 
a gift was too much for the royal pilgrim, especially as 
it insured him good luck in all his enterprises. Still, 



1 The list of jewels (from tlie Inventory of IGl.'i) is given in Nicli- 
ol.s's Erasmus, p. lO'J. Diceto says, " Ne sit qui nou cretlat, desit qui 
scrihat." 

2 The account of the exhibition of the shrine is taken from Eras- 
mus (see Nichols, p. ^i5), Stow, and the Cotton MS. See Nichols, pp. 
166, 167; and the Bohemian Travellers, who give the story of the 
Regale of France (see Note B), and the Venetian's Relation of 
England under Henry VII. 

3 Andreas Marciaueusis (Bouquet's Collection, xii. 423). 



THE REGALE OE EKANCE. 271 

as a compensation, he offered one hundred thousand 
florins for the better adornment of the shrine. The 
Primate was fully satisfied ; but scarcely had the re- 
fusal been uttered, when the stone leaped from the ring 
and fastened itself to the shrine, as if a goldsmith had 
fixed it there." ^ The miracle of course convinced the 
king, who left the jewel, with the one hundred thou- 
sand florins as well; and it remained the wonder (if the 
church, — so costly that it would suihce for the ran- 
som of a king of England, almost of England itself ; so 
bright that it was impossiljle to look at it distinctly, 
and at night burning like fire, but even on a cloudy 
evening " you saw it as if it were in your hand." 

The lid once more descended on the golden ark ; the 
pilgrims, 

"telling heartily their beads, 
Prayed to Saint Thomas in such wise as they could," - 

and then withdrew, down the oiiiiosite flight of steps 
from that which they had ascended. Those who saw 
the long files of pilgrims at Treves, at the time of the 
exhibition of the Holy Coat, in 1844, can best form 
a notion of this part of the scene at Canterbury. Theie, 
as at Canterbury, the long line of pilgrims ascended 
and descended the flights of steps which led t(5 the 
space behind the high altar, muttering their prayers, 
and dropping their offerings into tlie receptacles 
which stood ready to receive them at the foot of either 
staircase. 

Where these offerings were made at Canterlmry we 
are not told, but prol)al)ly at each of the three great 
places of devotion, — the "Point of the Sword," tlie 
" Head," or " Crown," and " the Shrine." Ordinary pil- 
grims presented "silver brooches and rings ;" kings and 

1 See Note B, - Supplementary Tale, 1G8. 



272 TIIK WELL AND THE I'lLGKLMS' SIGNS. 

princes gave jewels or money, uiagniticent drapery, 
spices, tapers, cups, and statues of themselves in gold 
or silver.^ 

And now the hour arrived for departure. The hour 
of " the dinner," which had been carefully prepared by 
the host of Southwark, now approaching, 

" They drew to dinner-wanl as it drew to noon." - 

]jut before they finally left the precincts, one part of 
their task still remained ; namely, to carry off memorials 
of the visit. Of these, the most important was fur- 
nished within the monastery itself. The story of the 
water mixed with the Martyr's blood ^ has been already 
mentioned ; and the small leaden bottles, or " ampulles," 
in which this was distributed, were the regular marks 
of Canterbury pilgrims. A step deeply worn away 
appears in the south ai.slc of the Trinity Chapel. It 
has been suggested that this was the spot where the 
pilgrims knelt to receive the blood. To later genera- 
tions the wonder was increased by showing a well in 
tlie i)recincts, into wliich, as the story ran, the dust 
and blood from the pavement had been thrown imme- 
diately after the murder, and called forth an abundant 
spring where before there had been but a scanty stream ; 
and this spring turned, it was said, both at the time and 
since, four times into blood and once into milk. With 
this water miracles were supposed to be wrought ; and 
from the beginning of the fourteenth to the close of 
the fifteenth century, it was one of the greatest marvels 
of the place.* Absurd as the story was, it is worth 

1 See Nichols'.s Erasmus, pp. 108, 160. 

2 Supj)lenieiitary Tale, 190. ^ See " Murder of Beeket," p. 114. 
* 'J'lie story of the well is given in the •' Polistoirc " of the time of 

Edward IL ; hy the Bohemian Travellers in the time of Edward IV. ; 
and by William Thomas, in the time of Henry VIII. (See Notes A, 



THE PILGRIMS' SIGNS. ' 273 

recording as being one of which the comparatively late 
origin can be traced by us, though wholly unsuspected 
by the pilgrims, and perhaps by the monks who profited 
by its wonders ; and thus an instance, even to the most 
credulous, of the manner in wliich such stories grad- 
ually grow up round consecrated spots. 15ut besides 
these leaden bottles, the pilgrims usually procured 
more common reminiscences on their way back to the 
inn. Mercery Lane, the narrow street wliich leads 
from the cathedral to the " Chequers," in all proba- 
bility takes its name from its having been the chief 
resort of the shops and stalls where objects of orna- 
ment or devotion were clamorously offered for sale to 
the hundreds who Hocked by, eager to carry away some 
memorial of tlieir visit to Canterbury. At that time 
the street was lined ^ on each side with arcades, like 
the " Kows " at Chester, underneath which the pilgrims 
could w\alk, and turn into the stalls on either side. 
Such a collection of booths, such a clamor of vend- 
ers, is the first sight and sound that meets every 
traveller who visits Loreto or Einsiedlen. The ob- 
jects, as in these modern, so in those ancient resorts of 
pilgrimage, were doubtless mostly of that flimsy and 
trivial character so expressively designated by a word 



B, and C.) It is niikuuwii to Gcrvasc and tlie earlier ciiroiiiclers. 
Tlie well was prohahly tiiat whicii is in the old plans of the monastery 
marked Putcus, immediately on the north side of the choir, of wiiieli 
all traces have now disappeared. Two remarkable instances of mi- 
raculous springs may he mentioned, of which, as in this case, the later 
story can be traced. One is that in the Mamertine Prison, said to have 
been called forth for the baptism of St. Peter's jailer, though really 
existing there in the day.s of the Koman Eepul)lic. The other is the 
Zemzeni at Mecca, commonly believed to have been the well of Ish- 
mael, although it is known to have l)een really dug by Abd-ul-Motallib. 
(Sprenger's Mahomet, pp. 31, 54.) 
i Hasted, iv. 428. 

18 



274 THE J'lLGKIMS' SIGNS. 

derived from a place of this very kind, tawdry, — tliat 
is, like the lace or chains of silk called " Etheldred's 
Chains,"^ sold at the fair of Saint Aiudrcij,^ or Ethcl- 
dreda, the patron saint of the Isle of Ely. But what 
they chiefly looked for were " signs," to indicate where 
they had been. 

" As manner and custom is, signs there they bought. 
For men of coutre to know whom they had sought, 
Each man set his silver in such thing as they liked." •• 

These signs they fastened on their caps or hats, or 
hung from their necks, and thus were henceforth dis- 
tinguished. As the pilgrims from Compostela brought 
home the scallop-shells, which still lie on the seashores 
of Gallicia ; as the " palmers " from Palestine brought 
the palm-branches still given at the Easter pilgrimage, 
in the tin cases which, slung behind the mules or 
horses, glitter in long succession through the caval- 
cade as it returns from Jerusalem to Jaffa ; as the 
roamers from Rome brought models of Saint Peter's keys, 
or a " vernicle," that is, a })attern of Veronica's handker- 
chief, sewed on their caps, — so the Canterbury pilgrim 
had Ids hat thick set with a " hundred ampulles," or 
with leaden brooches representing the mitred head of 
the saint, with the inscription Caput Thoriia} Many 

1 Porter's Flowers of the Saints : IIar])sfie]d, \ ii 24, quoted liy 
Fuller, book ii § 110. 

- So Tooleii for Saint Olavo, Trowel for Saint \\\\\a, Tanlon for Saint 
Antony, T/zeu^eH for Saint Eunen, or AdaTunan (liceves's Adaniiian, 
256), Tith for Saint Eth, Slooscij for Saint Osyth, Ickleii for Saint Eciiel, 
Tuireij for Saint Oragli, Toll for Aldate. See Caley's Life, i. 272. 

^ Supplementary Tale, 194. 

* See Piers Plougluuan and Giraldns, ns (juotod b}' Nichols, p. 70, 
who overlooks the fact that the "am])ulla'" were Canterbury signs. 
See C. R. Smith's Collect. Ant., i. 81. li 43; .lonrnal of the Arclnc- 
ological Association, i. 200, Some of the brooches may be seen in 
the British Museum, 



THE DINNER. -THE TOWN. 275 

of these are said to Lave been found in the beds of the 
Stour and the Thames, dropped as the vast concourse 
departed from Canterbury or reached London. 

At last, after all these sights and purchases, came 
the dinner, " at noon." 

" Every man iu liis degree took his seat, 
As they were wont to do at sii])per and at meat." i 

The remains of the vast cellars under the Chequers Inn 
still bear witness to the amount of good cheer which 
could be provided. 

After the repast they all dispersed to see the town. 

"All that had their changes with them 
They made them fresh and gay ; " 
and 

"They sorte.l them together, 
As tiiey were more used travelling hy the way." 

The knight 

" With his menee went to see tlie wall 
And the wards of tlie town, as to a knight befalL" — 

the walls of Simon of Sudbury, which still in great part 
exist roiuid the city, — 

" Devising attentively the strengtli all about, 
And pointed to his son botli the perill and the dout, 
For shot of arblast and of bow, and eke for shot of gun, 
Unto the wards of tlie town, and how it might Ije won."- 

The monk of the party took his clerical friends to 
see an acquaintance 

" tliat all these years three, 
Ilatb prayed him by bis letters that I would him see." ■* 

The wife of Ikth induced the Prioress to walk into 
the garden, or " her1)ary," 

1 Supi)lementary Tale, 2'30-240. - Jbid., l'J4. 

3 Ibid., 270. 



i:76 THE ];eturn. 

" to see the herbs grow, 
And all the alleys fair and pavid and raylid, and y-uiakid, 
The savige and the ysope y-fretted and y-stakid. 
And other beddis by and by fresh )--dight, 
For comers to the host, right a sportful sight." i 

Such were the ordinary amusements of the better 
class of Canterbury pilorims. The rest are described as 
employing themselves in a less creditable manner. 

On the morrow they all start once again for London, 
and the stories on the road are resumed. At Dartford, 
both on going and returning, they laid in a stock of 
pilgrims' signs.^ The foreign pilgrims sleep at Roches- 
ter ; and it is curious to note that the recollections of 
Canterbury have so strong a hold on their minds that 
the first object which they visit on their arrival in Lon- 
don is the Chapel of St. Thomas,^ — the old chapel built 
over the place of his birth, and the graves of his parents, 
Gilbert and Matilda. 

Besides the mass of ordinary pilgrims, there were 
those who came from the very highest ranks of life. 
Probably there was no king, from the second to the 
eighth Henry, who did not at some time of his life 
think it a matter of duty or of policy to visit the 
Shrine of St. Thomas. Before the period of the Trans- 
lation, we have already seen the visits of Louis VII. 
of France, and Richard and John of England. After- 
wards we have express records of Isabella,^ Queen of 
Edward II., of Edward I., and of John, the captive 

1 Supplementary Tale, 290. This last expression seems to imply that 
the Iierbary was in the garden of the inn. A tradition of such a garden 
still exists in the tenements on the nortiiwest side of Mercery Lane. 

2 Dunkin's History of Dartford. 3 gee Note B. 

* Archa^ologia, xxxvi. 461. She was four days on the road, and 
made offerings at the lomb, tlie head, and the sword. Mary, daugliter 
of Edward I., accompanied her. (Green's Princesses of England, 
vol. ii.) 



EDWAKD I. — JOHN OF FRANCE. 277 

king of France. Edward T., in the close of his reign 
(1299), ofiered to the shrine no less a gift than the 
golden crown of Scotland ; ^ and in the same year he 
celebrated, in the Transept of the Martyrdom, his mar- 
riage with his second wife, Margaret.'-^ John of France 
was at Canterbury perhaps on his arrival, certainly on 
his return from his captivity.'^ The last acts of his 
exile were to drop an alms of ten crowns into tlie 
hands of the nuns of Harbledown, to offer ten nobles 
at the three sacred places of the cathedral, and to carry 
u[\', as a reminiscence from the Mercery stalls, a knife 
for the Count of Auxerre. A Sunday's ride brought 
him to Dover; and thence, after a dinner with the 
])]ack I'rince in Dover Castle, he once more embarked 
for his native country. Henry V., on his return from 
Agincourt, visited both the cathedral and St. Augus- 
tine's, and " offered at the Shrine of St. Thomas." Em- 
manuel, the Emperor of the East, paid his visit to 
Canterbury in 1400 ; Sigismund, the Emperor of the 
West, in 1417. Distinguislied members of the great 
Scottish families also came, from far over the Border ; 
and special licenses and safe-conducts were granted to 
tlie Bruccs, and to the Abbot of Melrose,* to enable 
tliem to perform their journeys securely through those 
troubled times. The great barons of the Cinque Ports, 
too, came here after every coronation, to present the 
canopies of silk and gold which they held, and still 
hold, on such occasions over our kings and queens, and 
wliicli they receive as their perquisites.-'^ 

We have seen the rise of the Shrine of St. Thomas ; 

1 See tlastcd, iv. .514. Tt was tlie crown e^iven to Fdwanl hy Jolm 
Baliol, and rarricd off l)y I'aliol on liis escape. VVIieu lie was recap 
turcd at Dover, the crown was .sent to C'anterhnry. 

- See Note A. 3 See Note Ji. 

i Hasted, iv. 514. & Ibid. 



278 REACTION AGAINST PILGRIMAGE. 

we now come to its decline. From tlie very begin- 
ning of its glory, there had been contained within it 
the seeds of its own destruction. Whatever there may 
have been of courage or nobleness in Becket's life and 
death, no impartial person can now doubt that the ages 
which followed regarded his character and work with 
a reverence exaggerated beyond all reasonable bounds. 
And whatever feelings of true religion were interwoven 
with the devotion of those who came over land and sea 
to worship at his shrine, it is impossible to overlook the 
groundless superstition with which it was inseparably 
mingled, or the evil results, social and moral, to which 
the pilgrimage gave birth. Even in the first begin- 
nings of this localization of religion, there were purer 
and loftier spirits (such as Thomas a Kempis ^ in Ger- 
many) who doubted its efficacy ; and in the fourteenth 
century, when it reached its height, a strong reaction 
against it had already begun in the. popular feeling of 
Englishmen. Cliaucer's narrative leads us to infer, and 
the complaints of contemporary writers, like Piers 
Ploughman and William Thorpe, prove beyond doubt, 
that the levity, tlie idlenes.s, the dissoluteness,^ pro- 
duced by these promiscuous pilgrimages, provoked that 
sense of just indignation wliicli was one of the most ani- 
mating motives of the Lollards, and was one of the first 
causes which directly prepared the way for the Ee for- 
mation. Even the treasures of the cathedral and of 
St. Augustine were not deemed quite secure ; and the 
Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, in the reign of Eich- 
ard IL, advised that they should be moved " for more 
safety " to Dover Castle,'^ — just as, in the wars of the 

1 " There are few whom sickness really amends, as tliere are feiv 
whom pilgrimage realli/ sanctifies." — Iniitatio Christi, i. 23, 4. 

2 See the very iustrnctive (niotations in Nichols's Erasmns, pp. 
182-189. 3 Lam bard's Kent, p. 293. 



1370.] SIMON OF SUbBUIiY. 270 

l\ilatinate, the Holy Coat of Trt'.ves was for many years 
shut up in the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein. 

Nor was it only persons of humble life and narrow 
minds that perceived these evils and protested against 
them. In the year of the fourth Jubilee, 1370, the 
pilgrims were crowding as usual along the great Lon- 
don road to Canterbury, when they were overtaken by 
Simon of Sudbury, at that time Bishop of London, but 
afterwards Primate, and well known for his munificent 
donations to the walls and towers of the town of Can- 
terbury. He was a bold and vigorous prelate ; Ids 
spirit was stirred within him at the sight of what he 
deemed a mischievous superstition, and he openly told 
them that the plenary indulgence which they hoped 
to gain by their visit to the holy city would be of no 
avail to them. Such a doctrine from such an author- 
ity fell like a thunderbolt in the midst of the vast 
multitude. Many were struck dundj ; others lifted up 
their voices and cursed him to his face, with the char- 
acteristic prayer that he might meet with a shameful 
death. One especially, a Kentish gentleman, — liy 
name, Thomas of Aldon, — rode straight up to liim, in 
towering indignation, and said : " My Lord Bishop, for 
this act of yours, stirring the people to sedition against 
Saint Thomas, I stake the salvation of my soul that 
you will close your life by a most terrible death," to 
which the vast concourse answered, " Amen, Amen." 
The curse, it was believed, prevailed. The " vo.r paj)- 
1(1 i," so the chronicler expressly asserts, turned out to 
be the "vox Dei." "From the beginning of the world 
it never has been heard that any one ever injured the 
Cathedral of Canterbury, and was not punished by the 
Lord." ^ Eleven years from that time, the populace of 

1 Bircliingtou'ri Auuals ; Whartou's Auglia Sacra, ii. ,51. 



280 KUASMl'S A\D COLKT. [1512. 

Lundoii not Tuuinturally iiiiayiiuHl tluit the rights of 
Saint Thomas were avenged, when they saw the un- 
fortunate, Triniate dragged out of the Tower and be- 
licaded liy the; Kentish rebels under Wat Tyler. If is 
liead was taken to his native place, Sudbury, where it 
is still preserved. His body was buried in the tomb, 
still to be seen on the south side of the choir of tlu^ 
cathedral, where not many years ago, when it was 
accidentally opened, the body was seen within, wrapped 
in ccn'ecloth, the vacant space of the head occupied by 
a leadt^n l)all. 

I>ut Sudbury was right, after all ; and the end was 
not far off. Wyclirfe liad already lifted u]) ids voice, 
and the memory of Saint Thomas of ('anterl)ury was 
one of the ancient forms which began to totter before 
him. It \vas said, whether truly or not, that in the 
last week of his life — on the 29th of October, 1384 — 
lui was going to preach at Lutterworth against the 
great saint, whose; martyrdom was on that day com- 
memorated. A stroke of i)aralysis interrupted, as it 
was biilieved, the daring words; but both to those who 
coiuleiiiiicd and those who ajtplauded his supposed 
intention, it must have appeared ominous of the fut- 
un:. Another century elapsed ; and now, between the 
years 1511 antl ir)i;>,i we find within the precincts of 
the cathedral two illustrious strangers, for whose com- 
ing, in their dii'ferent ways, both Chaucer and Wycliffe 
had ])repared the way. 'I'lu^ one was John Colet,^ first 
scholar of his time in Euglaml, Dean of St. Paul's 
('atlu'dral, and founder of St. Paul's (Jrammar School. 
The other was the foreigner Erasmus, the patriarch of 

1 Tli(> (late is fixod hy t he evonis of Erasmus's life (.'^ee Nichols, p. viii). 
- Fur llic iinxif tliat. " I'alliis " in Erasmus's Colloquy was Colet, see 
Nichols, lip. 120, 127. 



1512.1 EIJASMUS AND COLET. 281 

tlu'. learnin^t^f and scliularsliip of Europe, then just re- 
viving from the slumher of a thousand years. They 
liad made the journey from Loudon together; they liad 
descended the well-known liill, ami gazed with atlmi- 
ration on the well-known view. Long afterwards, in 
the mind of Erasmus, lived the recollection of " the 
majesty with which the church rises into the sky, so 
as to strike awe even at a distant approach ; the vast 
towers,^ saluting from far the advancing traveller ; the 
sound of the hells, sounding far and wide througli the 
surrounding country." They were led the usual round 
of the sights of pilgrims. They speculated on the 
figures of the murderers over the south porch ; tlu^y 
entered the nave, then, as now, open to all comers, and 
were struck by its "spacious majesty," then compara- 
tively new from the works of Prior Chillenden. The 
curious eye of Erasmus passed heedlessly over the 
shrine^ of Archbishop Wittlesey, Init fixed on the l)ooks 
fastened to the columns, and noted, with his caustic 
humor, that amongst them was a copy of tlie npocryphal 
Gospel of Nicodemus. They were taken to the Cha])el 
of the Martyrdom, and reverently kissed the rusty 
sword ; and then, in long succession, as already de- 
scribed, were exhibited to them the wonders of the 
crypt, the choir, the sacristy, and the shrine. Tlunr 
acquaintance with Warham, the gentle and lenrned 
Primate, secured their admission even to the less ac- 
cessible regions of the crypt and sacristy. The Prior 
who received them at the shrine was (Joldstone, — the 
last great benefactor to the cathedral, who had just 
built the Christ Church gate and the central tower.'^ 

' llo savs "two," )trit]i!Tl)ly not spoinc^ tlio low northwest Norniau 
tower now dcstroyi'il. 

2 " S(>]iii]crnm uescio cujiis " " Ilastoil, iv. 556. 



282 EUASMUS AND COLET. [1512. 

Erasmus saw enough to find out not only that he was 
a pious and sensible man, but that he was well ac- 
(|uainted with the philosophy — now trembling to its 
ruin — of Duns Scotus and the schoolmen. Even if 
no record were left, it would have been impossible not 
to inquire and to imagine with deep interest what im- 
pression was produced b}' these various objects, at this 
critical moment of their history, on two such men as 
Colet and Erasmus. We are not left to conjecture. 
Every line of the narrative, dry and cautious as it is, 
marks the feelings awakened in their hearts. Tlie 
beauty of the edifice, as we have seen, touched them 
deeply. But when they come to the details of the 
sight, two trains of thought are let loose which carry 
away every other consideration. Eirst, the vast display 
of wealth, which in former ages would have seemed 
the natural accompaniment of so sacred a spot, awakens 
in the mind of Erasmus only a sense of incongruity 
and disproportion. He dwells with pleasure on the 
"wooden altar" of the "martyrdom," as "a monument 
of antiquity, rebuking the luxury of this age;" he 
gladly kisses the "rough cloak" and "napkin" of 
Becket, as "memorials of the simplicity of ancient 
times." But the splendid stores of the treasury, " be- 
fore which INIidas or C'ra^sus would have seemed beg- 
gars," rouse only the regret — the sacrilegious regret, 
as he confesses, for which he begged pardon of the 
saint before he left the church — that none of these 
gifts adorned his own homely mansion. His friend 
took, as was his wont, a more serious view of the mat- 
ter ; and as they were standing before the gilded head 
in Becket's Crown, broke in with the unseasonable sug- 
gestion that if Saint Thomas had been devoted to the 
poor in his lifetime, and was now unchanged, unless 



l.-,12 I ERASMUS AND COLET. 283 

for the better, he would far rather prefer that some 
portion of this vast treasure should l)e expended on 
the same ubjeets now. The verger knit his brows, 
scowled, pouted, and, but for Warham's letter of intro- 
duction, would have turned them out of the church. 
Erasmus, as usual, took the milder side : hinted that it 
was but his friend's playful way, and dropped a few 
coins into the verger's hand for the support of the edi- 
fice. But he was not the less convinced of the sub- 
stantial truth of tlie good Dean's complaint. On the 
next point tliere was more dillerence between tliem. 
The natural timidity of Erasmus led him to shrink 
from an open attack on so widespread a feeling as 
the worship of relics. Colet had no such scruple ; and 
the objects of reverence which had held enthralled the 
powerful minds of Henry Plantagenet and of Stephen 
Langton excited in the devout and earnest mind of the 
theologian of the sixteenth century sentiments only of 
disgust and contempt. When the long array of bones 
and skulls was produced, he took no pains to disguise 
his impatience ; he refused the accustomed kiss due to 
the arm of Saint (leorge; and when the kind Prior 
offered one of the filthy rags torn from onti of the 
saint's robes, as a choice present, he held it up between 
his fingers, and laid it down with a whistle of con- 
tempt, which distracted Erasmus between shame for 
his companion's bad manners and a fear for the conse- 
quences. But the Prior pretended not to see ; perhaps 
such expressions were now not so rare as in the days 
of Sudbury. At any rate, the courtesy of his high office 
prevailed ; and with a parting cup of wine, he bade 
them farewell. 

There was to be yet one more trial of Erasmus's 
patience. They were to return to London. Two miles 



284 SCENE AT IIARBLEDOWN. [1512. 

from Canterbury., they found themselves in a steep 
descent through a steep and narrow lane, with high 
banks on either side ; on the left rose an ancient alms- 
house. We recognize at once, witliout a word, the old 
familiar lazar-house of Harbledown, so often mentioned 
in these pages, so picturesque even now in its decay, 
and in spite of the modern alterations, which have 
swept away almost all but the ivy-clad chapel of Lan- 
franc ; the road, still steep, though probably wider than 
at that time ; the rude steps leading from the doorway, 
under the shade of two venerable yews, — one a lifeless 
trunk, the otlier still stretching its dark branches over 
the porch. Down those steps came, according to liis 
wont, an aged almsman ; and as tlie two horsemen 
approached, he threw his accustomed shower of holy 
water, and then pressed forward, holding the upyier 
leather of a shoe, bound in a brass rim, with a crystal 
set in the centre. Colet was the left-hand horseman 
thus confronted. lie bore the shower of holy water 
with tolerable equanimity ; but when the shoe was 
offered for him to kiss, he sharply asked the old man 
what he wanted. " The shoe of Saint Thomas," was 
the answer. Colet's anger broke all bounds. Turning 
to his companion, "What!" he said; "do these asses 
expect us to kiss the shoes of all good men that have 
ever lived ? Why, they might as well bring us their 
spittle or their dung to be kissed ! " The kind heart of 
Erasmus was moved for the old almsman ; he dropped 
into his hand a small coin, and the two travellers pur- 
sued their journey to the metropolis. Three hundred 
years have passed, but the natural features of the scene 
remain almost unchanged ; even its minuter memorials 
are not wanting. In the old chest of the almshouse 
still remain two relics, which no reader of this story 



1512.] SCENE AT IIAlilJLEDOWN. 285 

can see witliout interest. The one is an ancient maple 
bowl, bound with a l)iazen rim, which contains a piece 
of rock crystal, so exactly reminding us of that which 
Erasmus describes in the leather of Saint Thomas's 
shoe, as to suggest the conjecture that when the shoe 
was lost the crystal was thus preserved. The other is 
a rude box, with a chain to be held by the hand, and 
a slit for money in the lid, at least as old as the six- 
teenth century. In that box, we can hardly doubt, the 
coin of Erasmus was deposited. 

Trivial as these reminiscences may be, they are not 
without importance, when they bring before us an inci- 
dent so deeply illustrative of the characters and for- 
tunes of the two pilgrims who thus passed onwards, 
soon to part and meet no more, but not soon to lose 
their influence on the world in which they lived : Colet, 
burning with his honest English indignation against a 
system of which the overthrow, though not before his 
eyes were closed in death, was near at hand ; Erasmus, 
sharing his views, yet naturally chafing against the 
vehemence of Colet, as he afterwards chafed against 
the mightier vehemence of Luther, — shrinking from the 
shock to the feelings of the old almsman of Harble- 
down, as he afterwards shrank from any violent col- 
lision with the ancient churches of Christendom. In 
the meeting of that old man with the two strangers in 
the lane at Harbledown, how completely do we read, 
in miniature, the whole history of the coming revolution 
of Europe ! 

Still, however, with that strange unconsciousness of 
coming events which often precedes the overthrow of 
the greatest of institutions, the tide of pilgrimage and 
the pomp of the cathedral continued apparently un- 
abated almost to the very moment of the final crash. 



28G VISIT OF HENRY VIII. AND CHARLES V. 1512.] 

Almost at the very time of Erasmus's visit, the offer- 
ings at the shrine still averaged between £800 or 
£1000 — that is, in our money, at least £4000 — a year.^ 
Henry VII. had in his will left a kneeling likeness of 
himself, in silver gilt, to be " set before Saint Thomas 
of Canterbury, and as nigh to the Shrine of St. Thomas 
as may well be." Prior Goldstone, who had shown 
Erasmus and Colet the wonders of the shrine, had 
erected its noble central tower, and the stately entrance 
to the precincts. The completion of Becket's Crown 
was in contemplation. A faint murmur from a solitary 
heretic against the character of J>ecket was, even as 
late as 1532, enumerated amongst the crimes which 
brought James Bainham to the stake.^ Great an:>iiety 
was still expressed for the usual privileges and indul- 
gences, on the last Jubilee in 1520 ; it was still pleaded 
at Eome that since the death of Saint Peter there was 
never a man that did more for the liberties of the 
church than Saint Thomas of Canterbury.-^ Henry 
VIII., in that same year, had received the Emperor 
Charles V. at Canterbury, immediately before the meet- 
ing of the Cloth of Cold. Tliey rode together from 
Dover, on the morning of Whitsunday, and entered the 
city through St. George's Gate. Under the same can- 
opy were seen both the youthful sovereigns. Cardinal 
Wolsey was directly in front; on the right and left 
were the proud nobles of Spain and England ; the 
streets were lined with clergy, all in full ecclesiastical 

^Nichols's Erasmus, ]). 110, quotes Cuniinnl Mortou's Appeal. 
There is a similar passage often (juotetl froui Sonuier's Canterbury, 
p. 125. 

^ " He affirmed Arclihishop Becket was a murderer, and if lie did 
not repent his murder, he was rather a devil in licll than a saint in 
heaven." — Collier, part ii. l)ook i. 

"* A]ipcndi.\ to Battcly's Canterbury, no. C, xxi. 



1520.] THE REFORMATION. 287 

costume. They lighted off their horses at the west 
door of the cathedral. Warham was there to receive 
them ; together they said their devotions, — doubtless 
before the shrine.^ So magnificent a meeting had 
probably never been assembled there, nor such an en- 
tertainment given, as Warham afterwards furnished at 
his palace, since the days of Langton. We would fain 
ask what the Emperor, fresh from Luther, thought of 
this, — the limit of his tour in England; or how Henry 
did the honors of the cathedral, of which, but for his 
elder brothers death, he was destined to have been the 
Primate. Vmt the chronicles tell us only of the out- 
ward show ; regardless of the inevitable doom which, 
year by year, was drawing nearer and nearer. 

Events moved on. The queen, who had greeted^ her 
imperial nephew with such warmth at Canterbury, was 
now divorced. In 1534 the royal supremacy, and sep- 
aration from the See of Piome, was formally declared. 
The visitation of the monasteries began in 1535. The 
lesser monasteries were suppressed in 1536. For a 
short space the greater monasteries with their gorgeous 
shrines and rituals still remained erect. In the close 
of 1536 was struck the first remote blow at the wor- 
ship of Saint Thomas, lioyal injunctions were issued, 
abrogating all superfiuous holidays which fell in term- 
time or in the time of harvest : ^ tlie Festival of the 
Martyrdom on the 29th of December escaped; but the 
far greater Festival of the Translation of the Relics, 
falling as it did in the season of harvest, which ex- 
tended from the 1st of July to the 29th of December, 

1 Rattoly; Soinner, part li. App. nu. x. ; Ilolinshed, 1520. 

•2 Ilolinshed, 1520. 

^ The prohibition iiiclmlea c.^iiccially tlie festivals of Saint Thomas 
(.Inly 6). Saint Lawrence (Aiionsl 10), .-mil the Ildly Cross (September 
14)." (Annals of an Aii-iistiiie .M<ink, llarleian MSS., 419, fol. 122.) 



288 CRANMER'8 BANQUET. (1.W7. 

was thus swept away. The vast concourse of i)ilgrims 
or idlers from the humble classes, who had hitherto 
crowded the Canterbury roads, were now for the first 
time detained in their usual occupations ; those fr(3m 
the higher classes were still free to go. lUit one signi- 
ficant circumstance showed what was to be expected 
from them. 

Ever since the Festival of the Translation had been 
established, its eve, or vigil, — that is, the 6th of July, 
— had been observed as a day of great solemnity. A 
touching proof of the feeling with which it was re- 
garded is preserved in the very year preceding that in 
which its observance was prohibited. "I should lie 
sorry," wrote Sir Thomas More, on the day before his 
death, — the 5th of July, 1535,- — "that it should be 
any longer than to-morrow ; for it is Saint Thomas's Eve 
and the Octave of Saint Peter, and therefore to-morrow 
beg I to go to God. It were a meet day and very con- 
venient for me." ^ 15y the Priniates of the English 
Church, this day had been always rigidly kept as a 
fast : the usual festivities in the palace at Canterbury 
or Lambeth, as the case may be, had always Ijeen sus- 
pended ; the poor who usually came to the gates to be 
fed came not ; tlie fragments of meat which the vast 
retinue of domestics gathered from the tables of the 
spacious hall, were withheld. Put Archbishop Cran- 
mer determined to carry out the royal injunctions 
thoroughly. In a letter written to Thomas Cromwell, 
from Ford, in the August of this year (1537), — for the 
most part by his secretary, — he had with liis own hand 
inserted a strong remonstrance against the inconsis- 
tency of the royal practice and profession : " Put, my 
Lord, if in the court you do keep such holidays and 
1 Wurdswurth's Ecclesiastical Biography, ii, 217. 



1538] TKIAL OF BECKET. 289 

fastiiig-days as be abrogated, when shall we persuade 
the people to cease from keeping of tlieni ? for the 
king's own house shall be an example to all the realm 
to l)reak his own ordinances." ^ lie was determined, at 
any rate, that " the Archbishop's own house " should 
on this, the most important of all the abrogated days, 
set a fitting precedent of obedience to the new law. 
On that eve, for the first time for more than three hun- 
dred years, the table was spread as usual in the palace- 
hall^ for the officers of his household, with the large 
hospitality then required by custom as almost the first 
duty of the Primate. And then the Archbishop " ate 
fiesh " on the Eve of Saint Thomas, and " did sup in his 
hall with his family," — ■ as the monk of St. Augustine's 
Abbey, who relates the incident, dryly observes, " which 
was never seen before in all time." '^ 

In the course of the next year (1538), whilst the 
Archbishop was making the "exposition of the P_^pistle 
of Saint Paul to the Hebrews half the Lent in the Chap- 
ter-house of tlie monastery,"^ the fatal blow gradually 
descended. The names of many of the saints wdiose 
festivals had been discontinued, remained and still re- 
main in the English calendar. But Becket's memory 
was open to a more grievous charge than that of hav- 
ing given birth to idleness and superstition. We must 
remember that the mind of the king, and, with a few 
exceptions, of the government, of the hierarchy, of the 
nation itself, was possessed with one master idea, — • 
that of establishing the supremacy of the Crown over 
all causes, ecclesiastical as well as civil, witlun the 

1 Strype's Craunier, Ajipendix, no. xix. '- Ihid., p. 16. 

3 Annals of an Augustine Monk, Harleian MSS., 4l'J, i'ol. 112. It 
is somewhat inaccurately quoted by iStrype. 

4 Ibid. 

19 



290 TPvIAL OF BECKET. [1538. 

dominions of England. It lias now in practice been 
interwoven with all our institutions ; it has in theory 
been defended and adopted by some of our ablest 
statesmen, divines, and philosophers : however liable 
to be perverted to worldly or tyrannical purposes, there 
is a point of view from which it has been justly re- 
garded as the largest and noblest opportunity which 
outward institutions can furnish for tlie realization of 
the kingdom of God upon earth. Ikit, be it right or 
wrong, it was then held in England to be the one great 
question of the time ; and to tliis doctrine it is not 
surprising that the story of Becket's career should have 
seemed to contain a direct contradiction. Doubtless, 
philosophical historians might have drawn distinctions 
between the times of the second and the eighth Henry, 
— might have shown that the truths and feelings rep- 
resented by the civil and ecclesiastical powers at these 
two epochs were widely ditferent. Ihit in that age of 
indiscriminating partisanshi]), of half-formed knowl- 
edge, of passionate impulses, such a view of past events 
could not be found. Even King John, whom we now 
justly account one of the worst of men, was exalted 
into a hero, as striving, though in vain, to resist the 
encroachments of the I'apacy. The recent memory of 
the two great opponents of the new doctrine. More and 
Fisher, whose virtues every party now acknowledges, 
was then set aside with the summary question, "Should 
the King's highness have suffered those traitors to live, 
Thomas More ' tlie jester,' and Fisher the ' glorious 
hypocrite' ?" ^ It is necessary to enter into these feel- 
ings to understand -in any degree the events which 
followed. 

1 Declaration of Faitli, 15.39. (Collier's Ecc. Hist., vol. ii. Apijeiidix, 
no. xlvii.) 



1538.] TRIAL OF BECKET. 291 

On the 24th of April, 1538 (such, at any rate, was 
the story reported all over the continent of Europe), a 
summons was addressed in the name of King llemy 
VIII., " to thee, Thomas Eecket, sometime Archhishop 
of Canterbury," charniiii!, him with treason, contumacy, 
and rebellion. It was read within the walls of the ca- 
thedral, by the side of the shrine : thirty days were 
allowed for his appearance; and wlien at the expira- 
tion of that period the canopy ami ark and iron chest 
remained unmoved, and the dead man had not risen 
to answer for himself, the case was formally argued at 
Westminster by the Attorney-General on tlie part of 
Henry II., on the part of the accused by an advocate 
granted at the public expense Ity the king. 1'be ar- 
guments of the Attorney-General }irevailed ; and on 
the loth of June sentence was pronounced against 
the Archbishop, — that his bones should be publicly 
burned, to admonish the living of their duty by the 
punishment of the dead ; and that the offerings made at 
the shrine should be forfeited to the Crown. ^ 

1 The grounds for douhtiiig this story, as reLited by Saiiilers, 
rolliiii, and hy Tope raul 111. (Wilkius's Concilia, ii. 835), are given 
in Nichols's Erasmus, p. 233; Eroude's Ilistoi-y of England, lii. 
301: (1) The shrine was not destroyed in August, as Pollini states; 
(2) The Narrative of Thomas (see Note C), as well as the l^eclaration 
of Faith, 1539, suggests a doubt whether any of the bones, except the 
head, were burned (see Jenkyns's Cranmer, i. 2G2) ; (3) It is not men- 
tioned in any contemporary English authority, aud especially not, in 
the long and close correspondence at the very time, between Cromwell 
and Prior Goldwell ; (4) The summons is dated " London," whcieas 
oflicial papers are never dated from London, but from Westminster, 
AVhitchall; (5) Henry is called "Rex Hiberniic." This was in 1538; 
he did not take the title till 1541. On the otlicr hand, may be noticed, 
as slight confirmation of the general truth of tlic story: (1) The lan- 
guage of the Proclamation of 1538, "Forasmuch as it now appeareth 
clearly ; " (2) The Declaration of 1539, " By approbation it appeareth 
clearly ; " (3) The Life of Sir Thomas More published in Wordsworth's 
Ecclesiastical Biography, ii. 226, " We have made him, after so many 
liuudred years, a traitor to the king." 



292 TRIAL OF BECKET. [1538- 

Such, at least, was the belief ft Eome ; and though 
the story has of late years been doubted, there is nothing 
in it which is of itself incredible. It would, if true, be 
but one instance of the strange union of violent self- 
will with rigid adherence to law, which characterizes 
all the Tudor family, but especially Henry VIII. It 
would be but an instance of the same scrupulous casuis- 
try which suggested the fancied violation of a Levitical 
ordinance as an occasion for annulling liis marriage with 
Catherine, and which induced him to adopt in the case 
of his three sul)sequent wives none but strictly legal 
remedies. It will be but an instance of tlie way in 
which every act of that reign was performed in due 
course of law ; and thus, as if, by a Trovidence working 
good out of evil, all the stages of the Reformation re- 
ceived all the sanction which the combined will of the 
sovereign and the nation could give them. And it must 
be remembered that in this process there was nothing 
contrary to the forms of the Roman Catholic faith, 
which Henry still professed.^ However absurd to us 
may seem the citation of a dead man from his grave, 
and the burning his bones to ashes because he does not 
appear, it was the exact copy of what had been before 
enacted in the case of Wycliffe at Lutterworth, and of 
what was shortly afterwards enacted by Queen Mary 
in the case of lUicer and Fagius at Cambridge. But 
whatever might be the precise mode in which the 
intentions of Henry and Cranmcr were expressed^ a 
royal commission was duly issued for their execution. 



1 This is specially ]Hit forward in his defence in tlic Declaration of 
Faith (1550). " The King's Highness iiath never put any man to death 
hut l)y ordinary process . . . who can find in his heart, knowing this, 
to think the same prince that so hath judgment ministered by the law, 
to be a tyrant '? " — Collikr's Eccl. Hist., ii. Appendix, no. xlii. 



l53S.f VISIT OF MADAME I)E MOXTREUIL. 293 

One more visit is recorded in this strange interval 
of suspense. In August the shrine was still standing. 
On the last day of that month, 1538, a great French 
lady passed through Canterbury, Madame de Montreuil, 
who had just been attending Mary of Guise to Scotland. 
She was taken to see the wonders of the place, and 
" marvelled at the great riches thereof," and said " that 
if she had not seen it, all the men in the world could 
never 'a' made her to believe it." But it was mere 
wonder ; the ancient spirit of devotion, which had com- 
pelled respect from Colet and Erasmus, had now no 
place. Cushions were set for her to kneel both at the 
" Shrine " and " Head ; " and tlirice tlie Prior, opening 
" Saint Thomas' Head, ottered lier to kiss it, but she 
neither kneeled nor would kiss it, l»ut still viewing the 
riches thereof. ... So she departed and went to her 
lodging to dinner, and after the same to entertain her 
with honest pastimes. Aiul about 4 of the clock, the 
said Prior did send her a present of coneys, capons, 
chickens, with diverse fruits — plenty — insomucli tliat 
she said, 'What shall we do with so many capons ? Let 
the Lord Prior come and eat, and help us t(^ eat them 
to-morrow at dinner,' and so thanked him heartily 
for the said present." ^ This was the last recorded 
present tliat the "Lord Prior" of Canterbury gave, 
and the last recorded pilgrim wlio saw the Shrine of 
St. Thomas. 

In the course of the next month- the Eoyal Com- 
mission for the destruction of shrines, under Dr. 
Leyton, arrived at Canterbury. Unfortunately every 
authentic record of the final catastrophe has perished ; 

1 State Papers, i. .58.3, 584. 

■^ Stow gives the proeeeilings under " Se]itenil)er, 1538," which 
agrees with the (hite of Madame de Moutreuil's visit. 



294 DESTRUCTION OF THE SHRINE (15.38. 

and the precise manner of the devastation is involved 
in obscurity and contradiction. Like all the acts of 
destruction at the lleforniation, as distinct from those in 
the civil wars at a later period, it was probably carried 
out in the presence of the lioyal Commissioners with all 
formality and order,^ The jewels — so we may infer from 
the analogy of the like event at Durham — were first 
carefully picked out by a goldsmith in attendance, and 
then the iron chest of the shrine broken open with a 
sledge-hammer.^ The bones within ^ were either scat- 
tered to the winds, or, if interred, were mingled indiscri- 
minately with others ; in this respect sharing a different 
fate from that of most of the disinterred saints, who 
after the destruction of their shrines were buried with 
decency and care near the places where the shrines 
had stood.^ The reputed skull in the golden " Head " 
was treated as an imposture, from its being so much 
larger than the portion that was found in the shrine 
with the rest of the bones'* and was burned to ashes 
as such. The jewels and gold of the shrine were car- 
ried off in two strong coffers, on the shoulders of seven 
or eight men ; ^ for the removal of the rest of the 
spoils six and twenty carts are said to have waited 
at the church door.^ The jewels, no doubt, went 

1 See Raine's Durham, p. .5.5. 

- It was a dispute, afterwards, whether tlio liones had been burned 
or not ; the Roman Catholics maintaining tliat they liad been, the Prot- 
estants vehemently denying it. This shows a certain consciousness on 
the part of the latter that there had been excessive violence used. See 
Declaration of Faith, 15.39 (in Nichols's Erasmus, 2.36 ; Collier, Appen- 
dix, no. xlvii.), and William Thomas, 1566, Note C). That they were 
buried, not burned, was likely from the unexceptionable testimony of the 
Life of Sir Thomas More, by Ilarpsfield, — " We have of late unshrined 
him, and buried his holy relics." (Wordsworth's Eccl. Biog., ii. 226.) 

3 See Raine's Durham, p. 56. * Declaration of Faith, 1539. 

5 Stow's Annals, 1538. 

^ Sanders in W^ilkins's Concilia, iii. 836. 



loss.] PRUCLAMATIOX. 295 

intu the royal stores ; the " Eegale of France," the glory 
of the shrme, was long worn by Henry himself in the 
ring ^ which after the manner of those times encircled 
his enormous thumb; tlie last time'-^ that it appears 
in history is among the "diamonds" of the golden 
" collar " of his daughter Queen Mary.^ The healing 
virtues of the well, it was observed, instantly dis- 
appeared. Cranmer, on the 18th of August, had al- 
ready applied * for a Eoyal Commission to be issued 
to his two chaplains, Dr. Lee and Dr. Barbour, for the 
examination of the Idood of Saint Thomas, which he 
suspected to be red ochre. Finally, a proclamation 
was issued on the IGth of November, setting fortli the 
cause and mode of Becket's death, in a statement whicli 
displays considerable ability, by fixing on those points 
in the ancient narratives which unquestionably reveal 
the violent temper and language of the so-called Mar- 
tyr.^ " For these, and for other great and urgent 
reasons, long to recite, the King's Majesty, by the ad- 
vice of his council, hatli thought expedient to declare 
to his loving subjects, tliat notwithstanding the said 

1 Such a rint!; may be seen on the thumb of the contemporary effigy 
of Arelibishop Warham. 

- Many of tlie Crown jewels of England were given away in Spain 
(so I am informed by Mr. Ford) during the niis.siou of Prince Charles 
and the Duke of Buckingham. 

3 Nichols's Erasmus, p. 224. 

■> Jenkyns's Cranmer, i. 2f.2. See also Note C. 

^ " His deatli, which tiiey untruly called martyrdom, happened upon 
a rescue by him made; and tliat, as it is written, he gave opprobrious 
names to the gentlemen whicli then counselled him to leave his stub- 
bornness, and to avoid tlie coiinnotion of the people risen up for that 
rescue. And he not only called one of them ' Bawde,' but also took 
Tracy by the bosom, and violently shook and jducked him, in such a 
mauuer as he had almost overthrown him to the pavement of the 
church; so that upon this fray, one of their company, perceiving the 
same, struck him, and so iu tjie throng Becket was slaiu." See Wil- 
kins's Concilia, iii. 848. 



296 rnosciuPTioN of the name. 

canonization, there appearetb nothing in his life and 
exterior conversation whereby he should be called a 
Saint; but rather esteemed a rebel and traitor to his 
prince. Therefore his Grace straitly chargeth and coni- 
mandeth, that henceforth the said Thomas Becket shall 
not be esteemed, named, reputed, nor called a Saint, 
but ' Bishop Becket,' and that his images and pictures 
throughout the whole realm shall be put down and 
avoided out of all churches and chapels, and other 
places ; and that from henceforth the days used to be 
festivals in his name shall not be observed, — nor the 
service, office, antiphonies, collects, and prayers in his 
name read, but rased and put out of all books." ^ 

Most rigidly was this proclamation carried out. Not 
more carefully is the name of Geta erased by his rival 
brother on every monument of the Roman Empire, 
from Britain to Egypt, than tliat of the contumacious 
Primate V)y the triumphant king. Every statue and 
picture of the "Traitor" has been swept away; from 
almost every illuminated psalter, missal, and every copy 
of historical or legal document, the pen or the knife 
of the eraser has effaced the once honored name 
and figure of Saint Thomas wherever it occurs.^ At 
Canterbury the arms of the city and cathedral were al- 
tered. Within tlie church some fragments of painted 
glass, and the defaced picture at the head of Henry 
IV.'s tomb are his only memorials. Even in the sec- 
ond year of Edward VI. the obnoxious name was still 
hunted down ; and Cranmer, in his " Articles of Visi- 
tation " for that year, inquires " whether they have put 
out of their church books tlie name and service of 

1 Wilkins's Concilia, iii. 848. 

2 See, amongst other instances, Capgrave's Chronicle, p. 141. " Saiut 
Thomas " is erased, and " Kran " suhstitnted. 



DESTRUCTION OF RELICS OF ANTIQUITY. L>97 

Tliomas Becket." Tlie site of his original tomb in the 
crypt was, a few months after the fall of the shrine, an- 
nexed by an Order in Council to the honse of tlie first 
canon of the newly erected Chapter, and was retained 
almost to our own time as his cellar for wine and 
fagots. So completely were the records of tlie shrine 
destroyed, that the cathedral archives throw hardly the 
slightest light either on its existence or its removal.^ 
And its site has remained, from that day to this, a 
vacant space, with the marks of the violence 'of the 
destruction even yet visible on the broken pavement. 

Round it still lie the tombs of king and prince and 
archljishop ; the worn marks on the stones sliow the 
reverence of former ages. But the j^lace itself is va- 
cant, and the lessons which that vacancy has to teach 
us must now take the place of the lessons of the ancient 
shrine. 

There are very few probably, at the present time, in 
whom, as they look round on the desolate pavement, 
the first feeling that arises is not one of disappointment 
and regret that a monument of past times so costly 
and curious shoidd have l)een thus entirely obliterated 
There is probably no one who, if the shrine were now 
standing, would dream of removing it. One such tomb, 
as has been said, still remains in Westminster Abbey ; 
the very notion of destroying it would call out a general 
outcry from all educated men throughout the kingdom. 
Why is it that this feeling, so familiar and so natural 
to us, should then have been so completely overruled ? 
The answer to this question is doubly instructive. 
First, it reveals to us one great difference between our 
age and the time not only of the Keformation but of 
many preceding ages. In our time there has sprung 
1 See Note F., p. 320. 



298 DESTRUCTION OF RELICS OF ANTIQUITY. 

Up, to a degree hitlierto unprecedented, a love of what 
is old, of what is beautiful, of what is venerable, — a 
desire to cherish the memorials of the past, and to keep 
before our eyes the vestiges of times which are brought 
so vividly before us in no other way. It is, as it were, 
God's compensation to tlie world for its advancing 
years. Earlier ages care but little for these relics of 
antiquity : one is swept away after another to make 
room for what is yet to come ; precious works of art, 
precious recollections, are trampled under foot ; the 
very abundance in which they exist seems to beget 
an indifference towards them. But in proportion as 
they become fewer and fewer, the affection for them 
grows stronger and stronger ; and the further we recede 
from the past, the more eager now seems our craving 
to attach ourselves to it by every link that remains. 
Such a feeling it is which most of us would entertain 
towards this ancient shrine, — such a feeling as in the 
mass of men hardly existed at the time of its destruc- 
tion. In this respect, at least, we are richer than were 
our fathers : other gifts they had, which we have not ; 
tliis gift of insight into the past, of loving it for its own 
sake, of retaining around us as much as we can of its 
grace and beauty, we have, as 'they had not. It is 
true that reverence for the dead ought never to stand in 
the way of the living, — that when any great evil is 
avoided, or any great good attained, by destroying old 
recollections, no historical or antiquarian tenderness can 
be pleaded for their preservation ; but where no such 
reason exists, let us keep them as best we can. And as 
we stand on the vacant space of Becket's Shrine, let us 
be thankful that we have retained what we have, and 
cherish it accordingly. 

It is impossible, however, to read the signs of 



NI':CESSITY FOH DESTRUCTION OF 8IIKINE. 200 

the fifteeiitli and sixteenth centuries without per- 
ceiving that the Shrine of St. Thomas fell not simply 
from a love of destruction or a desire of plunder, but 
before a sense of overwhelming necessity. Had the 
Reformers been ever so anxious to retain it, they would 
probably have found it impossible to do so. How^ever 
much the rapacity of Henry VIII. may have prompted 
him to approi)riate the treasures to himself, and how- 
ever much we may lament the wholesale plunder of a 
fund which might have endowed great public institu- 
tions, yet the destruction of the shrine was justified on 
general reasons, and those reasons commended them- 
selves to the common sense and feeling of the nation 
and the age. The mode in which it was destroyed may 
appear violent; l)ut it was the violence, partly char- 
acteristic of a barbarous and revolutionary epoch, partly 
&uch as always is produced by the long growth of some 
great abuse. A striking proof of this fact, which is als() 
itself one of the most surprising parts of the whole 
transaction, is the apathy with which the clergy and 
the people acquiesced in tlie act of the government. 
When a similar destruction was effected in France, at 
the time of the great lievolution, although the horrors 
perpetrated were even greater, yet there were loyal 
hands to save some relic at least from the general ruin ; 
and when the Abbey of St. Denis was again opened 
after the Ilestoration, tlu^ ashes of the sovereigns, the 
fragments of the royal tombs, were still preserved 
sufficiently to fill again tlie vacant spaces. Yet of 
Recket's Shrine hardly a shred or particle has ever been 
traced ; the storm had long been gathering, yet it Ijurst 
at last with hardly an effort to avert it, and the des- 
ecration was executed by officers, and sanctioned by 
ecclesiastics, who in name at least still belonged to the 



300 HKLIC-WORSniP. 

ancient faith. At Jlonie, indeed, it was made one of 
the special grounds of the bull of excommunication 
issued by the Pope in the December of tliat year. But 
in England hardly a murmur transpires. Only one com- 
phunt has reached our time : Cranmer wrote to Crom- 
well in the following year, to tell him that a drunken 
man had been heard to say ^ that " it was a pity and 
naughtily done to put down the l*ope and Saint' 
Thomas." 'Something of this silence may doubtless 
be ascribed to the reign of terror wliicli more or less 
characterizes the administration of justice in the time 
of Henry VIII. But it cannot be so explained alto- 
gether. No Thomas ]\Iore was found to die for Becket, 
as there had been for the Pope's su|)remacy. And 
during the five years of the restored Roman Catholic 
Keligion in the reign of Mary, although an order was 
issued by Cardinal Pole to restore the name of Saint 
Thomas to the missals from which it had been erased,^ 
yet no attempt was made to revive the pilgrimage to 
Canterbury ; and the queen herself, though usually 
eager for the restitution of the treasures which her 
father had taken from the churches and convents, did 
not scruple, as we have seen, to wear in her necklace 
the choicest jewel of the shrine. The account of 
Erasmus's visit, as already given, is in fact sufficient to 
show how completely the system of relic-worship and 
of pilgrimage had worked its own ruin, — how deep was 
the disgust which it awakened in the minds of intel- 
ligent men, unwilling though they might be to disturb 
the established forms of religion. By the time that the 
catastrophe was accomplished, Colet had already been 
laid to rest in the choir of St. Paul's ; the tomb had 

' .Tenkyiis's Cranmer, i 278. 

2 Strype's Craumer, Appeudix, uo. 81. 



CONCLUSION. 301 

already closed over Erasmus in his beloved retirement at 
IJasle. Hut we cannot doubt that could they have lived 
to see the com])letion of the overthrow which their saga- 
cious minds clearly foresaw, as they knelt before the 
shrine a few years before, the one would have received 
the tidings with undisguised exidtation, the other with 
a sigh indeed, yet with a full sense of the justice of the 
act. 

It is therefore a satisfaction, as we look on the broken 
l»avenient, to feel that, here as elsewhere, no great in- 
stitution perishes without good cause. Had Stephen 
Langton been asked which was most likely to endure, — 
the Magna Charta which he won from John, or the 
Shrine which five years afterwards he consecrated in 
the presence of Henry III., — ^he would, beyond all 
question, have said the Shrine of St. Th(unas. But 
we see what he could not see, — we see that the Charter 
has lasted, because it was founded on the eternal laws 
of truth and justice and freedom : the Shrine has van- 
ished away, because it was founded on the passing 
opinion of the day; because it rested on ignorance, 
which was gradually dissolving ; because it was en- 
tangled with exaggerated superstitions, which were 
condemned by the wise and good even of those very 
times. But the vacant space is more than this : it is 
not only a sign of the violent convulsion through which 
the Keformation was effected ; but it is a sign also, if we 
could so take it, of what the Beformation has efi'ected 
for us, and what duties it has laid upon us. If one of 
the ancient pilgrims were to rise again, and look in vain 
for the object of his long devotion, he would think that 
we were men without religion.^ So, in like manner, 

' A curious instance occu's ii liislidp T~)(ivlo's Account of liis visit 
to Canterbury, in 1828. " I beheld a lofty cloister and a mouldering 



302 CONCLUSION. 

when the Gentile conqueror entered the Holy of Holies 
and looked around, and saw that there was no graven 
image or likeness of anything on earth or in heaven, he 
marvelled at the " vacant sanctuary," ^ as of a worship 
without a (Jod. Yet Pompey in the Temple of Jeru- 
salem and the ancient pilgrim in Canterbury Cathedral 
would be alike mistaken. It is true that a void has 
been created, — that the Eeforination often left, as here 
in the old sanctuary of the cathedral, so on a wider 
scale in the hearts of men, a vacancy and a coldness 
which it is useless to deny, though easy to explain 
and to a certain point defend. But this vacancy, this 
natural result of every great convulsion of the human 
mind, is one which it is our own fault if we do not till 
up, in the only way in which it can be tilled up, — not by 
rebuilding what the reformers justly destroyed, nor yet 
by disparaging the better qualities of the old saints and 
pilgrims, but by a higher worship of God, by a more 
faithful service of man, than was then thought possible. 
In proportion to our thankfulness that ancient super- 
stitions are destroyed, should be our anxiety that new 
light and increased zeal ami more active goodness 
should take their place. Our pilgrimage cannot be 
Geoffrey Chaucer's, but it may be John Bunyan's. In 

•pile . . . which mij^ht bear ou its porch the inscription ... to tlie 
Unknown God. It is a wide and spacious waste, cold and untenanted. 
It now had no altar, no .sacrifice, no ])riesthood." And so easily does 
his imagination get the better of facts, that he proceeds : " The only 
symbol of Christianity not yet e.xtinct which I discovered was a clKipd 
in the cloister, where the verger who accompanied me (for hire) ob- 
served that 'service was at certain times performed.' I cried out . . . 
' Where are the canons and the dignitaries ^ . . . Where is the loud 
song or the sweet canticle of praise ? ' &c., «Scc." (Fitzpatrick's Doyle, 
ii. 90.) Probably Bisliop Doyle's visit iras j>aid to Canterl)ury whilst 
the cathedral was undergoing repairs, and the service was Decesaarily 
carried on in the chapter-house. 

1 " Vacuam sedeni, inauia arcana." — Tacitus, Hist., v. 9. 



CONCLUSION. 303 

that true " Pilorim's Way " to a better country, we have 
all of us to toil over many a rugged hill, over many 
a dreary ]ilaiu, by many opposite and devious paths, 
ciieering one another by all means, grave and gay, till 
we see the distant towers. In that pilgrimage and 
])rogress towards all things good and wise and holy, 
("anterbury Cathedral, lei us humbly trust, may still 
liave a part to play. ^Vlthough it is no longer the end in 
the long journey, it may still be a stage in our advance, 
it may still enlighten, elevate, sanctify, those who come 
within its reach : it may still, if it be true to its high 
purpose, win for itself, in the generations which are to 
come after us, a glory more humble but not less ex- 
cellent than when a hundred thousand worshippers lay 
prostrate before the shrine of its ancient hero. 



APPENDIX TO "THE SHPJNE OF 
BECKET." 



NOTE A. 

[The following extracts are from a manuscript history of 
Canterbury Cathedral, iu Norman French, entitled " Polis- 
toire," in the Harleian MSS. in the British Museum. My at- 
tention was called to this curious document by Mr. Bond, to 
whom I would here beg to express my thanks for his con- 
stant courtesy whenever I have had occasion to consult 
him.] 

THE WELL OF ST. THOMAS. (See p. 272.) 

Had. MS. Cmj'ol. Uo />, col. 1, line 6, ah hna. 

(1) Si fust la place apres tost balee, et la poudre coylee 
de coste le eglise gettue en vn lyu dunt auaunt nout par- 
launce ; mes en fest le poer Den tauntost habundaunt par 
uirtue tregraciousc de (jueu merite le martyr estoyt a tute 
gent nout tost estre conu. Dunt en le lyu auaunt dist ou 
ne gweres en sa ariere moysture ny apparust mes euwe hi 
auoyt tut fust ele petite, sa colur naturele quant la poudre 
ressu auoit tost chaunga, cest a sauoir vne foiz en let et 
quatre foyz la colour de saiuic reprist. E puys en sa na- 
ture demeyne returna. 8i comensa aboylir de source 
habundaunte et demiu't funtayne plentyuuse. Dunt puys 
plusurs greues de diuers maladies graciousement en sunt 
garys. 



306 EXTRACTS FKOxM A MANUSCRIPT HISTORY. 

Ibid., f, A. 150, rol. 1. 

( 2 ) [Kiti^ Henrij II. after his penaiicc^ . . . Puis le niatyn 
kauut le iur cler uppanist mes.se recjuist et la oyst dououte- 
ment et puis del ewe 8eiut Thomas bust a la funtaine 
auaunt nomee, kc de sauuc et let la colur prist, et puys 
en sa nature returna, et vne ampulle de cele ewe jjleyne oue 
ly prist, cum en signe de pelryn, et ioyous de Caunterbur 
departist eel saniady. 



THE TRANSLATION OF THE RELICS OF SAINT. 
THOMAS IN 1220. (See p. 239.) 

Hurl. MS. G3G, /o/. 202 b, col. 2, /. 15, ab iiiid. 

Ausi memos col an la none de Jun a Caunterbire fust 
Seint Thomas le martir translate. Le an do sun martyre- 
meut 1. per lerseueskc Estephene iiuaunt nome de Canter- 
bire. Cement ceste soUempnete estoyt feste a tote gent 
noil estre conn, et me a forceray de cele la manere breve- 
ment parcnnter. Lerseueske Estephene de Langetone del 
hure ke cele dignete out ressn, apres ceo ke en Engletere 
fust ariue et le conent del exil reuenu estoyt, sc ])ur- 
pensa totes hnres coment les reliques sun predecessur Seint 
Thomas le glorious martyr poeyt honurer par la translatiun 
fere, et la purneaunce des choses necessaries largement fist, 
cum ia mnstre en fest serra. Punt cum del iur ccrtein ke 
cele translatiun sollempne fere uoloyt, an puple ])armye la 
tere out la notificatiiui fest, tauns des grauns hi sunt venuz, 
et puple cum sauns numbre, ke la cite de Caunterbire 
ne la suburbe, ne les menuos uiles cnuiroun, a cele yoing- 
nauntes procheynes, le puple taunt uenu ne poeyent en lurs 
mesuns resceyure. Le Roy ausi Henry le iij. a la roque.ste 
lerseueske de Caunterbire uenu hi estoit. Si demora oue 
lerseueske et ansemble ou3 ly tuz les grauns ke venus es- 
tovent la ueile et le iqr de la translatiun en tuz custages. 



EXTRACTS FROM A MANUSCRIPT HISTORY. 307 

Estre ceo eii les entrees ce la cite a chescune porte en my 
la ruel es toneaus de vin en foylis fist cocher lerseueske et 
ces mynistres mettre pur lai'gemeiit au puplo doner en la 
chalyne sauns paer accune nioneye. E ausi en quatre lyiis 
dediens la cite en les quarfoucs en memes la manere fist les 
toneaus mettre pur seruir a la mene gent. E defendre fist 
en les iiij. celers de vin ke riens ny fust au puple estraunge 
uendu, si nun pleynemcnt a ces custages, et ceo par sereuvve 
de ces gens a ceo assignes. Quar nestoyt lors dediens la 
cite en plus de lyus uin troue a uendre. En teu manere les 
choses dehors ordines, lerseueske Estephene et Ciauter le 
pn-iur anseraljle one tut le couent del eglise Jim Crist en 
la nuyt proclieyne dcuaunt le iur de la translatiuu en due 
furme de deuociun an sopuicve del martyr approcherent. 
E ilukes au comencement en luro oi'isuns se donercnt tuz 
taunt cum la brefte de la nuyte le pocyt suHVir. Puys sunt 
les peres de la tumbe sauns blemysemcnt remues per les 
meyns des nioygncs a ceo ordines, et se leuerent les autres 
tuz si aproclierent, et eel martyr de ioye regardauns ne se 
])oeyent des lermes tenir. E puys autrefoyz as orisuns se 
unt dones tuz en comune hors pris accuns des moygnes ke 
de seinte vie especiaunient elu lurcnt a eel tresor precious 
hors de sepnlcre renmer. Les queus le unt Icuc et en une 
chace de fust honeste a ceo appareyle le unt mys. La quele 
de fer bien yert asseurie si l;i fermcrent queyntement par 
clous de fer, et puyns en lyu honeste et priue le porterent 
taunt ke lendemeyn le iur de la translatiuu sollempnement 
a cele brer. Puys le matyn en cele mere eglise se assem- 
blerent les prelats tuz, cost a sauoyr, Pandulf auaunt nome 
de la seinte eglise de n)nie legat, et Esteuene erseueske de 
Caunterbire oue les autres eueskes ces suffragans tuz uenux 
hors pris troys, des queus lun mort estoyt et les deus par 
maladie furent escuses. Ceus en la presence le Roy Den- 
gletere auaunt nome Henry le iij. au lyu on le martyr 
glorious fust demore tost alerent, et la chace pristrent 
deuoutement en quer deuaunt lauter de la Trinite ke est 
en lo orient del see petriarchal. 1 hikes desuz un autre 



303 ]\[ARKIAGE OF EDWAKD I. AT CANTERBURY. 

cliace de fust trerichement de oer et des peres preciouses 
appareylee en tote reuerence houurablement celo mistrent. 
Si demurt par plate de oer tote part couerte et richement 
garnye. 



MARRIAGE OF EDWARD I. AT CANTERBURY. 

(See p. 277.) 

Harl MS. 636, >/. 225, col. 1, line 4. 
Pus sur cele ordinannce viiit en Engletere la auauntdiste 
Margarete, et la v. Ide de Septembre lerceueske de Caunter- 
byre Robert les esposailes celebra entre le Eduuard aiiaunt- 
dist et cele Margarete en le liiis del eglise de Caunterbyre 
deuers len cloistre de coste le bus del martirernent Seyut 
Thomas. Kar le roy hors de la chaumbre le priur vint, et 
Margarete hors dii paleys lerceueske ou lurs hosteaurs pris 
estoient. E sur ceo lerceueske auaunt nome Robert la messe 
des esposay les celebra al auter del fertre Seyiit Thomas le 
martir. E le drap ke outre le roy et la royne fust estcndu 
en tens de la benisun plusurs chalengerent. Cest a sauoyr 
lerceueske par la resun de sun office, le priur par la resun 
de la mere eglise, en la quele vnkes accun riens ne ressust 
ne ne ouoyt de fee, par la resun de office ke en cele feist, 
pur ceo ke leglise de Caunterbyre ne est une chapele 
lerceueske, mes mere eglise de totes les eglises et chapeles 
de tute la i^rouince de Caunterbyre. Le clerc ausi ke la 
croyz lerceueske porta le auauntdist drap chalanga. E les 
clers ausi de la chapele le roy eel memes drap chalengerent. 
Dunt per ceo ke en ten manere taunt de diners chalenges 
sur eel drap hy estoyent et certein vnkore nestoit a ki de 
di'oit demorer deuoyt, comaunda le roy eel drap an Cunte de 
Nichole liurer, ausi cum en owele meyn, taunt ke la dis- 
cussiun se preist, ky de droyt le deueroyt auoyr. Si fust 
eel drap negeres apres de par le roy au fertre Seynt Thomas 
maunde. Le samaday procheyn suyaunt la auauntdiste 
royne Margarete sa messe en la chapele lerceueske dediens 



"TRAVELS OF THE BOHEMIAN EMBASSY." 309 

le paleys oyst, la qiiele celebra le eueske de Couentre. Si 
otirist i hikes la royne a la manere de autres femmes sun 
cirge a les miens del eveske chauntaunt. E fust eel cirge 
tauntost au ferte Seiut Thomas porte. 



NOTE B. 

[In 1446 a Bohemian noble, Leo von Rotzmital, was sent 
on an embassy t(j England. His travels are related in two 
curious narratives, — one by a Bohemian, Schassek, now only 
known through a Latin translation ; the other, a German, 
Tetzel, of Nuremberg. They were published in 1847 by 
Professor Hye, in the University of Ghent, and were first 
introduced to the notice of the English public in an able 
and instructive article in tlie " Quarterly Review," of March, 
1852, ascribed to Mr. Ford. To his courtesy I am indebted 
for the volume from which the following extracts ai'e made.] 



JOURNEY OF THE BOHEMIAN AMBASSADOR TO 
CANTERBURY. (See pp. 244, 261, 262.) 

(1) Post eum casum die tertia, rursus navim conscen- 
dentes, in Angliam cursum tenuimus. Gumqne appropinqua- 
remus, conspexinnis montes excelsos calce plenos, qnam igne 
urere opus non est. 

li montes e louginquo nivibus operti videntui'. lis arx 
adjacet, a Cacodaemonibus extructa, adeo valida et munita, 
ut in nulla Christianorum provincia par ei reperiri queat. 
Montes illos arcemque praetervecti Sandvico ui'bi appnli- 
mus ; ea mari adjacet, unde mnltae regiones navibus adiri 
possunt. Plaec prima urbium Angliae in eo littore occurrit. 

Ibi primum conspexi navigia maritima, Naves, Galeones, 
et Cochas. Navis dicitur, quae ventis et solis agitur. (Ja- 
leon est, qui remigio ducitur : eorum aliqui ultra dncentos 
remiges habent. Id navigii genus est magnitudine et longi- 



310 EXTRACTS FROM THE 

tudine ijraecellenti, quo et secundis et adversis vcutis iiavi- 
gari potest. Eo, iit plui'imum, bella maritimageri consuevere, 
utpote quod aliquot centenos homines simul capere possit. 
Tertium genus est Cocha, quam dicunt, et ea satis nnagna. 
Sed nullam rem magis demirabar, quam nautas malum as- 
cendentes, et ventorum adventum distantiamque praedicen- 
tes, et quae vela intendi, quaeve demi debeant, praecipientes. 
Inter eos unum nautam ita agileni vidi, ut vix cum eo 
qiiisquam comparari possit. 

Sandvici consuetudo est, ut tofeam noctem cum fidicinibus 
et tubicinibus obambulent, clamantes, et quis eo tempore 
ventus flet, annunciantes. Eo audito negociatores, si ventus 
sibi commodus flare nunciatur, egressi naves conscendvint et 
ad patrias snas cnrsum dirigunt. 

Sandvico Cantuariam octo milliarium iter est. Ea urbs 
est Ai'chiepiscopo Angliae subjecta, qui ibi domicilium suum 
habet. Coenobium ibi visitur tanta elegantia, ut ei vix in 
ulla Christianorum provincia par inveniatur, sicut hac in re 
omnes peregrinatores consentiunt. Id templum triplici con- 
tignatione fornicata constat, ita ut tria templa, unum supra 
alterum, censeri possint : desuper stauno totum contegitur. 

In eo templo occisus est Divus Thomas Cantuariensis 
Arcliiepiscopus, ideo quod in quis legibus, quas Rex Henricus 
contra Ecclesiae Catholicae libertatem rogabat, sese constan- 
ter opposuit. Qui primum in exilium pulsus est, deinde cum 
revocatus esset, in templo sub vespertinis precibus a uefa- 
riis hominibus, qui regi impio gratificari cupiebant, Deum et 
sanctos invocans, capite truncatus est. 

Ibi vidimus sepulchrum et caput ipsius. Sepulchrum ex 
puro auro conflatum est, et gemmis adornatum, tamque mag- 
nificis donariis ditatum, ut par ei nesciam. Inter alias res 
preciosas spectatur in eo et carbunculus gemma, qui noctu 
splendere solet, dimidi ovi galliuacei magnitudine. Illud 
enim sepulchrum a multis Regibus, Priucipibus, mercatori- 
bus opulentis, aliisque piis hominibus munifice locupletatum 
est. Ibi omnes reliquiae nobis monstratae sunt : primum 
caput Divi Thomae Archiepiscopi, rasuraque vel calvities 



"TRAVELS OF THE BOIlExMIAN EMBASSY." 311 

ejusdem ; delude column.i ante sacellum Genitricis Deijjnxta 
quam orare, et colloqiiio Jieatae virgiiiis (quod a nuiltis visum 
et auditum esse nobis certo affirmabatur) perfrui solitus est. 
Sed ex eo tempore, quo haec facta fuerant jam anni trecenti 
elapsi sunt. Divus autem ipse non statim pro sancto habi- 
tus est, verum post aunos demum duceutos, cum ingentibus 
miraculis inclaresceret, in numerum divorum relatus est. 

Fons est in eo coenobio, cujus aquae (piinquies in san- 
guinem, et semel in lac commutatae fuerant, idque non niulto 
ante, quam nos eo venissemus, factum esse dicitur. 

Caeteras sacras reliquias, quas ibi conspcximus, omnes an- 
notavi, quae hae sunt : primum vidimus redimiculum Beatae 
virginis, frustum de veste Christi, tresque spinas de corona 
ejusdem. 

Deindc contemplati sumus sancti Thomae subuculum, et 
cerebrum ejus, et divorum Thomae lohannisque Apostolorum 
sanguinem. Spectavimus etiam gladium, qno decoUatus est 
sanctus Thomas Cantuaricnsis, et crines mati'is Dei, et por- 
tionem de sepulchro ejusdem. Monstrabatur quoque nobis 
pars humeri Divi Simeonis, ejus, (pii Christum in uhiis ges- 
taverat, Beatae Lustrabenae caput, cms unum S. Georgii, 
frustum corporis et ossa S. Laurent! i, cms S. Romani Epis- 
copi cms Ikicordiae virginis, cahx Beati Thomae, quo in 
administratione Missae Cantuariae uti fuerat solitus, cms 
Mildae virginis, cms Euduardae virginis. Aspeximus quo- 
que dentem Johannis Baptistae, portionem crucis Petri et 
Andreae Apostolorum, ossa Philippi et Jacobi Apostolorum, 
dentem et digitum Stephani Martyris, ossa Catharinae vir- 
ginis, oleuraque de sepulchro ejus, quod ad banc us(]ue diem 
inde manare fertur ; crines Beatae INIariae j\Iagdalenae, 
dentem divi Benedicti, digitum sancti Urbani, labia xinius 
infantium ab Herode occisorum, ossa beati Clementis, ossa 
divi Vincentii. Et alia plurima nobis monstrabantur, quae 
hoc loco a me annotata non sunt. 

Cantuaria digressi per noctem substitimus Eochesteriae, 
urbe viginti milliaribus inde distante. Rochcsteria Lon- 
diuum, viginti (piatuor milliarium itinere confecto, progressi 



312 I<:XTRACTS FROM THE 

sumus. Ea est, orbs ani])la et magnifica, arces habet duas. 
Eai-Lim alteram, quae in extremo urbis sita, sinu maris 
alluitur, Rex Angliae incolit quem ibi offendimus. Jlle simis 
(Thamesis fl.) poute lapideo longo, super quem per totam 
ejus longitudinem aedes sunt extructae, sternitur. Nullibi 
tautum milvorum numerum vidi, quam ibi, quos laedere 
caj)itale est. 

Londini cum essemus, deduct! sumus in id templura, in 
quo Divus Thomas natus esse fertur ; ibi matris et sororis 
ipsius sepulchra visuntur ; deinde et in alterum ubi S. Keu- 
hai'dus sepultus est. 



(2) Do fuoren wir mit grossem ungewittur in ein stat, 
heisst Kanterburg. 

Meinem herrn und andern gesellen thet das mer so we, 
das sie auf dem scliift" lagen, als wteren sit tot. 

Kanterburg ist in Engallant und gehort dem kunig von 
Engellant zu. Do leit der lieb herr sant Thomas. In der 
selben stat ist gar ein kostlicher sarch im miinster, wann es 
ist ein bistum da und gar ein hiibsche kirchen. Der sarch, 
darinne sant Thomas leit, ist das geringst daran gold, und 
ist lang und weit, das ein mitlein person darin ligen mag; 
aber mit perlein und edelgestein so ist er gar seer kostlich 
geziert, das nifin meint, das kein kostlicher sarch sey in der 
christenheit, und da audi so gross wunderzeichen geschehen 
als da. 

Item zu einen zeiten, da hot sich ein kunig von Erankroich 
in einem veldstreit dahin gelobt ; also gesigt der kunig seinen 
veinden ob nnd kam zu dem minister und zu dem heiligen 
herrn sant Thomas, und kniet fiir den sai'ch nnd sprach sein 
gebet und het einen ring an seiner hand, darin was ser ein 
kostlicher stein. Alsh het der bischof des selben miinster 
Kanterburg den kunig gebeten, er sol den ring mitsamt dem 
stein an den sarch geben. Der kunig saget, der stein wser 
im zu vast lieb und hett grossen glauben : was er anfieng, so 
er den ring an der hand hett, das jm nit mocht mislingen. 



•'TRAVELS OF THE BOHEMIAN EMBASSY." 313 

Aber er wolt jm an den sarcli geben, domit er aber desder 
basser geziert wurd, hunderttausend gulden. l)ev bischof 
was ser fro uiid dankt dem kunig. Sobald der kunig die wort 
het geredet uud dem bischof den ring liet versagt, von stund 
an springt der stein auss dem ring imd mitten in den sarch 
als hett en ein goldschmid hinein gemacht. Do das miracul 
der kunig sach, do bat er den lieben lierrn sant Thomas nnd 
den bischof, das er jm sein sund vergeb, mid gab darnach den 
ring und etwan vil obluxnderdt tausend gulden an den sarch. 
N iemand kan gewissen wass stein das ist. Er hat ser einen 
hellen liechten schein und brinnt als ein liecht, das kein 
gesicht erleiden mag, jn so stark anzushens, domit man jm 
sein varb erkeimen mocht. Man meint, das er an seiner, gUet 
so kostlich sey : so ein kunig von Engellant gefangen wurd, 
so mocht man jn damit liisen ; wann er sey kostlicher, dann 
das ganz Engelland. Und unter dem sai'ch ist die stat, do der 
lieb herr sant Thomas enthaubtet worden ist, xmd ob dem 
sarch hecht ein gTob hiirein hemd, das er angetragen hatt, und 
auf der linken seiten, so man hinein geet, do ist einn brunn, 
darauss hat sant Thomas altag trunken. Der hat sich zu 
sant Thomas zeiten funfmal verwandelt in milch und 1)1 ut. 
Darauss trank meinn herr Herr Lew und all sein diener. 
Und darnach geet man in ein kleine grufl't als in ein ca])- 
pellen, da man sant Thomas gemartert hat. Da zeiget man 
uns das schwert, damit man jm den kopf abgeschlagen hat. 
Da weiset man auch ein merklich stuck des heiligen creuzes, 
auch der nagel einen und den rechten arm des lieben herrn 
Kitter sant Gorgen und etlich dorn in einer mostranzen von 
der diu-nen kron. 

Auss der cappellen get man herfur zu einem steinen stul, 
da ist nnser Fravven bild, dasgar oft mit sant Thomas gei-edet 
hat. Das selbig bild stet iezunt im kor und hat ser von 
kostlichem gestein und perlein ein kron auf, die man umb 
gross gut schatzt. Da sahen wir gar kostlich cantores 
meinem henn zu eren ein schons salve singen. In unser 
sprach heisst nifiu den sant Thomas von Kandelberg; aber 
er heisst sant Thomas von Kanterburg. 



314 EXTEACTS FROM THE " rELElUNO INGLESE." 

NOTE C. 

[The following extract is from a work of William Thomas, 
Clerk of the Privy Council in the reign of Edward VI., who 
was executed in the reign of Mary, for an alleged share in 
Wyatt's conspiracy. Amongst other works he left a "De- 
fence of King Henry VIII.," entitled "II Pelerino Inglese," 
which is couched in the form of a dialogue with some 
Italian gentlemen, who ask him numerous questions as to 
the common charges against the king, to which he replies. 
The work is in the Cotton MS8. in the British Museum, and 
has since been published by Mr. Fronde, under the title of 
" The Pilgrim."] 

THE WELL AND THE SHRINE OF BECKET. 

(See pp. 272, 29.3 ) 

Cotton MS., Ve.^pasian D xc'di. p. Gl. 

" ' These wordes were marked of them that wayted on the 
table, in such wise that without moi'e adoe, iij of those 
gentylmen waiters considerated together, and streyght wayes 
toke their iourney to Canterbury, where tarrying their tyme, 
on an euening fyndyng this Byshop in the conniion cloyster, 
after they had asked hym certayne questions, whereunto he 
most arrogantly made answere, they slew hym. And here 
began the holynes, for incontinently as these gentylmen 
were departed, the monkes of that monastery locked np the 
church doores, and perswaded the people that the bells fell 
on ryngyng by them selves, and here was crying of " miracles, 
miracles," so eamiestly that the denilish monks, to nourish 
the supersticion of this new martired saynt, having the place 
longe tyme scperate unto them selves, quia propter san- 
guinem smpenduntur sacra, corrn])ted the fresh water of a 
well thereby, with a certayne mixture ; that many tymes it 
appeared bloudy, which they perswaded should procede by 
myracle of the holy marterdome : and the water mervey- 
lously cured all manner of infirmities, insomuch that the 



KXTHACrS FIIO.M IIIK " I'KLKIUXO IN'dLKSK," :jl5 

i<j;'iior;uiiit niultitudo came riiiinyiiit;- tdnetlier of all liaiules, 
specjally after the false miracles were coiifei-med by the 
popes canouisacioii, which folovved within a few yei-es after 
as gone as the Romayiie See had ratiUed this saiutes glory 
in heaven: yea, and more, these fayned miracles had such 
credit at length, that the poore kinge himselfe was per- 
swaded to beleve them, and in eftect came in person to visett 
the holy place with greate repentaunce of his passed eiiil 
doyng, and for satisfaction of his synnes gave many greate 
and fayre possessions to the monasterye of the foresayde 
religions : and thus tinally was this holy martir sanctified 
on all handes. JJutt the kynges maiestie that now is dead 
fyndyng the maner of the saints lyfe to agree evil with 
the proportione of a very sainte, and merveylyng at the ver- 
tue of this water, that healed all infirmities, as the blynde 
world determined, to see the substanciall profeof this thinge, 
in effect found these miracles to be utterly false, for when 
supersticion was taken away from the ignoraunt multitudes, 
then ceassed all the vertue of this water, which now rc- 
mayneth playne water, as all other waters do : so that the 
kyng moved of necessitie, could no lesse do then deface the 
shryne that was author of so much ydolatry. Whether 
the doyng thereof hath bene the nndoyng of the canonised 
saint, or not, I cannot tell. But this is true, that his bones 
are spred amongest the bones of so many dead men, that 
without some greate miracle they wyll not be found agayne.' 
' By my trouth' (sayde one of the gentylmen) ' in this your 
kynge dyd as I wold have done.' 'What' ((pjoth niyne 
adversary), ' do ye credit him V ' Within a litle,' sayd that 
other, ' for his tale is sensible : and I have knowen of the 
lyke false miracles here in Italye, proved before my face.'" 



31G THE PILGRIMS' WAY TOWARDS THE SHRIXE. 



NOTE D. (See p. 244.) 

THE PILGRIMS' WAY OR PATH TOWARDS THE SHRINE 
OF ST. THOMAS OF CANTERBURY. 

The evidence of local tradition in several places in Surrey 
and Kent appears to favor the supposition that a line of 
road, tracked out possibly in very early times, even before 
the coming of the Romans, and running along the south 
flank of the north Downs, which traverse Surrey from Farn- 
ham westward into Kent, and thence towards Cantei'bury, 
had been subsequently frequented by pilgrims in their pro- 
gress from Soutliampton, as also from the west through 
Winchestei', to the Shrine of St. Tiiomas. It has been 
supposed, with much probability, that Henry II., when he 
landed at Southampton, July 8, 1174, and made his pil- 
grimage to Becket's tomb, may have approached Canterbiny 
by this route. 

It may be assumed that foreign devotees from P)iittany, 
Anjou, the western parts of Normandy, and the adjacent 
provinces of France would ehoose the more convenient 
transit from the mouth of the Seine, or other French ports, 
to the ancient haven of Hanton, or Southampton. That 
place, from the earliest times, was greatly frequented on 
account of the facilities which it presented to commercial 
intercourse with tlie continent, and its vicinity to the 
ancient capital of the Heptarchy, the city of Winchester, 
v/here our earlier sovereigns constantly resided. This course 
would obviously be more commodious to many, who were 
attracted to our sliores by tiie important ecclesiastical estab- 
lishments which surrounded the Shrine of St. Swithin at 
Winchester, and still more by the extended celebrity of the 
reliciues of Saint Thomas ; whilst pilgrims from the more 
northern parts of Fi-ance, or from Flanders, would prefer 
the more frequented passage by SeaforJ, Dover, or Sandwich. 

On leaving Southampton, the pilgrims — unless their 
course lay by Winchester — would probably take the most 



THE PILGRIMS' WAY TOWARDS THE SHRINE. 317 

secure :iiid direct line of communication towards Farnhani, 
crossing the Itchen at Stoneham, and thence in the direction 
of Bishop's Waltham, Alton, and Froyle. It is, however, 
by no means evident that the line would pass through those 
places ; and it must be left to the local observation of those 
who may care to investigate the ancient trackways of Hamp- 
shire, whether the course of the pilgrims may not have 
passed from Southampton, in the direction of Durley, to 
Upham, and rather north of Bishop's Waltham, falling into 
the " Salt Lane " (a name often serving to indicate the trace 
of an early line of communication), and so either by Cheri- 
ton and Alresford, or by Ropley into the old road from Win- 
chester to Farnham, or else over iMilbarrow and Kilmison 
downs, towards Farnham. Or the track niay have passed 
by Beacon Hill, west of Warnford, joining the present i"oad 
from Fareham to Alton, or about nine miles south of the 
latter. Near this line of road, moreover, a little west of it, 
and about three miles from Alton, a trace of tlie course of 
the " Pilgrims' Path " seems to be found in the name of a 
farm or dwelling near liothertield I'ark and East Tisted, 
still known as " Pilgrims' Place." 

At Farnham the abrupt termination of the Surrey Downs 
presents itself, in the remarkable ridge known as the " Hog's 
Back." Thence there are two communications towards 
Guildford, diverging at a place called " Whiteway's End," 
one being the main turnpike-road along the ridge, the other 
• — and probably the more ancient — running under that 
height towards the tumulus and adjoining eminence south 
of Guildford, known as St. Catharine's Hill, where it seems 
to have crossed the river Wey, at a ferry towards Shalford. 
The name of " Conduit Farm," near this line, situate on the 
south flank of the Hog's Back, may possibly be worth obser- 
vation. Eastward of Guildford, the way doubtless proceeded 
along the flank of the downs, by or near St. Martha's Chapel, 
situate on a remarkable eminence, insulated from the ad- 
jacent downs. 

One of the county historians gives the following observa- 



318 THE riLGRlMH' WAY TOWARDIS THE SHRINK. 

tiou under Albiivy : " The ancient path called the Pilgrims' 
Way, which led from the city of Winchester to Canterbury, 
crosses this parish, and is said to have been much used in 
former times." -^ From Albury the line of the way, running 
east, is in many places discernible on the side of the Surrey 
Downs, sometimes still used as an occupation road, or bridle- 
way, its course indicated frequently by yew-trees at inter- 
vals, which are to be seen also occasionally left standing in 
the arable fields, where ancient enclosures have been thrown 
down and the plough has effaced every other vestige of this 
ancient track. The line, for the most part, it would seem, 
took its course about midway down the hillside, and ou the 
northern verge of the older cultivation of these chalk-downs. 
The course of the way would doubtless have been marked 
more distinctly, had not the progress of modern improve- 
ments often extended the line of cultivation upwards, and 
converted from time to time further portions of the hillside 
into arable land. Under the picturesque height of Boxhill 
several yews of large size remain in ploughed land, reliques 
no doubt of this ancient way ; and a row more or less con- 
tinuous marks its progress as it leads towards Reigate, 
passing to the north of Brockham and Betchworth. 

It may be worth inquiry whether Reigate (<SV/.w», Rige- 
gate, the Ridge-road), originally called Cherchefellc, may 
not have received its later name from its proximity to such 
a line of communication east and west along tlie downs, 
rather than from the supposed ancient ascent north ward,'- 
over the ridge to Gatton, and so towards London. 

It must be noticed, in connection with the transit of pil- 
grims along the way, at no great distance north of Reigate 
towards the Shrine of St. Thomas, that when they descended 
to that little town to seek lodging or provisions, they there 
found a little chapel dedicated to the saint, midway in their 

1 Brayley'.s History of Surre}% v. 168. 

2 Tliis supposition lias been sometimes advanced. (See Manning and 
Bray, i. 271.) It is there conjectured that a branch of the Stone Street 
turned off from Ockley Ijy Newdigate to Reigate, and so over the Ridge. 



THE PILGRIMS' WAY TOWARDS THE SHRINE. Ill',) 

joui'iicying from Southampton or Winchester towards Canter- 
bury. The site is now occupied by the town-hall or court- 
house, built about 1708, when the chapel had been demol- 
ished. In 1801, when an enlargement of the prison, here 
used at (Quarter Sessions, was made, some portions of the 
foundations of this Chapel of St. Thomas were brought to 
view.^ 

Proceeding eastward from Eeigate, the way traversed the 
parish of Merstham. The countj' history states " that a 
lane in the parish retains the name <if Pilgrims' Lane. It 
runs in the direction of the chalk-hills, and was the course 
taken by pilgrims from the west, who resorted (us indeed 
from all parts) to Canterbury, to ])ay their devotions at the 
Shrine of St. Thomas a Becket. It remains perfect in Tit- 
sey, a parish to the east of this." - 

The way may have proceeded by Barrow Green, and the 
remarkable tumulus there situated, in the parish of Oxtead ; 
and although the traces are obscure, owing to the progress 
of cultivation along the flank of the downs, positive vesti- 
ges of the line occur at intervals. Thus, in the parish of 
Tatsfield the county historian relates that Sir John (li-esham 
built his new house " at the bottom of the hill near the 
Pilgrim Road (so called from the Passage of pilgrims to the 
Shrine of Tliomas a Becket, at Canterbury), which is now 
perfect, not nine feet wide, still used as a road. It com- 
mences at the village of Titsey, and passes on close to the 
foot of the hill, through this parish into Kent." A more 
recent writer, Brayley, describing this Pilgrims' Road in the 
parish of Tatsfield, says that the measurement stated to be 
"not nine feet" is incorrect. "It is in foct about fifteen 
feet in width, and without any appearance of having been 
widened." ^ Mv. Levoson (Jower, of Titsey Place, has a farm 
adjacent to it, and known as the '' Pilgrimsway Farm." At 
no great distance from the coui'se of the way, near Titsey, 

1 Manniiifr and Bray's History of Surrey, i. 288, 289. 
" Il)i(l., ii. 253 ; Gentleman's Magazine, xcvii. ii. 414. 
3 Manning and ]>ray, ii. 403 ; lirayley's History, iv. 198. 



020 THE PILGRIMS' WAY TOWxVPvDS THE SHRINE. 

there is a small unenclosed green on the ridge of the downs, 
bearing the designation of " Cold Harbour," a name con- 
stantly found near lines of ancient road. 

Not far from Tatsfield the Pilgrims' Way entered the 
county of Kent, and its course appears plainly indicated 
towards Chevening Park. From thence it seems to have 
traversed the pastures and the opening in the hills, serving 
as a passage for the river Darent ; and it is found again 
skirting the chain of downs beyond for several miles, rai'elj^ 
if ever, passing through the villages or hamlets, but pursuing 
a solitary course about a quarter of a mile more or less to 
the northward of them. This observation applies generally 
to this ancient track. It is to be traced passing thus above 
Kemsing, Wi'otham, Trottesclifte, and a few small hamlets, 
till it approaches the Medway. From Otford towards the 
east to Hailing, the track aj)pears to be well known, as I am 
informed by the Rev. W. Pearson, of Canterbury, as " the 
Pilgrims' Road." He describes this portion as a narrow way, 
much like an ordinary parish road, and much used as a line 
of direct communication along the side of the downs. The 
name is generally recognized in that part of the county, and 
the tradition is that pilgrims used in old times to ride 
along that road towards Canterbury. In the maps given in 
Hasted's History of Kent, this line is marked as the Pilgrims' 
Road, near Otford, as also near Hailing. Here, doubtless, 
a branch of the original ancient track proceeded along the 
high ground on the west of the river Medway, towards 
Strood and the Watling Street. This might have been in- 
deed, it were reasonable to suppose, the more convenient 
mode of pursuing the remainder of the journey to Canter- 
bury. It is, however, more probable tliat tlie Pilgrims' Way 
crossed the pastures and the Medway, either at Snodland or 
Lower Hailing, and regained the hills on the opposite side, 
along the flank of which it I'an as before, near Kits Coty 
House, leaving Boxley Abbey to the south at no great dis- 
tance, and slightly diverging towards the southeast, by Dept- 
ling, Thurnhamr and the hamlet of Broad Street, progressed 



THE I'lLGKIMS' WAY TOWARDS THE SHKINE. IVII 

past Holliugbuuni, HiUTietsham, and Lenbam, towards Char- 
ing/ where the lane passing about half a mile to the north 
of that place is still known, as Mr. Pearson informs me, by 
the name of the Pilgrims' lioad. The remarkable feature of 
its course is invariable, since it does not pass through any 
of these places, but near them ; namely, from a quarter to 
half a mile to the north of them. 

From Charing the ancient British track may have con- 
tinued towards the sea by Wye, near another " Cold Har- 
bour," situate at the })art of the continuation of the liilly 
chain, east of Wye, and so by 8touting, acn^ss the Poman 
Stone Street, to the coast. The j)ilgrims, it niay be con- 
jectured, directed their course from Charing througli tiie 
woodland district, either by Chilham and along the north 
bank of the river Stour, thus approaching Canterbury by 
an ancient deep road, still strikingly marked on the flank 
of the hill, not far from Harbledown. Another course from 
Charing may, however, have been taken rather more n(;rth 
(if the present road from that place to Canterbury; and such 
a line may be traced by Snode Street, Beacon Hill, Stone 
Stile, and Fisher's Street, — names indicative of an ancient 
track, and so by Hatch Green and Bigberry Wood, straight 
into the deep way already mentioned, at Harbledown, which 
falls nearly in a straight line with the last half-mile of the great 
road from London entering into Canterbury at St. Dunstan's' 
Churcli. It nuist, however, be remarked, that the hillside 
lane ])roceeds in a direct line towards the southeast beyond 
Charing ; and although it presented a more circuitous course 
towards Canterbury, it may, especially in earlier times, have 
been frequented in preference to any shorter path across the 
woodland district. The line indeed is distinct, passing north 
of Westwell and J'^astwell ; and I am here again indebted to 
the local knowledge of my obliging informant, the Rev. W. 
Pearson, who states that an ancient track, still known as the 

1 At Cliariiin; a reniavl;al)lc' veliiiue was sliowii, - ■ the lilock on wliich 
John tlie Baptist was behiMcled. It was hruu-lit to England liy JUcliar.l 1. 
(Philipot, p. 100.) 

21 



322 THE PILGUIMS' WAY TOWAIJDS THE SHRINE. 

]*ilgi-ims' IkOad, exists, riuiuiug above the Ashinrd and Cau- 
terbuiy turnpike-road — and parallel witli it. It is ;i liridlc- 
way, taking its course near the villages of IJoiightou Aljih 
and Godmershani, towards Canterbury. 

There can be no doubt that fretiuent vestiges of the 
" Pilgrims' Path " miglit be traced by actual examination 
of the localities along the course hero ti'acked out, chiefly 
by aid of the Ordnance Survey. The carefvd investigation of 
this remarkable ancient track miglit throw light upon the 
eai-licr occupation of the southeastern })arts of England ; 
altliough there arc no indications of its having been formed 
by the Ptomans, there can be little doubt that it was used by 
them, as evinced by numerous vestiges of villas and other 
remains of the Roman age near its course. It is difficult to 
explain the preference shown, as it would ajjpear, by the 
pilgrims of later times for a route which avoided the towns, 
villages, and more populous districts, whilst a road for the 
most part is found at no great distance, pursuing its course 
through tliem parallel to that of the secluded Pilgrims' Path. 
Our thoughts naturally I'ccur to times of less favored social 
conditions than our own, — times of misrule or distrust, 
when, to repeat an apposite passage of Holy Writ cited in a 
former part of this volume, as " in the days of Shamgar^ 
the son of Anath, in the days of Jael, the highways were 
inioccupied, and the travellers walked through byways."-^ 

It may be here observed that the principal route to Wal- 
singham, by Newmarket, Brandon, and Fakenham, was 
known as the " Palmers' Way," or " Walsingham Green 
Way." 

A. W. 

Judfres v. 6. 



PlLCilllMACJE OF JOHN oF F1^A^'CE. 



NOTE E. 

visrr OF JOHN, king of franck, to the shrine of 

ST. THOMAS IN 1.3G0. (Sue pp. 1G4, 27G.) 

Ox two iiicmoi-jible occiisions was the Shrine of St. 'J'homa.s 
visited by a King of France, — the first being the solemn 
pilgrimage made in 1179 l)y Lonis V'll., to whom, according 
to the relation of IJrompton, the saint had thrice appeared 
in a vision. No French king previous to that time, as is 
observed by a contemporaiy chronicler, had set loot on Kng- 
liah ground. The king came in the habit of a pilgrim • 
amongst his rich oblations were the celebi'ated gem, the 
lapis rcgalis, ami the grant to the convent of a hundred 
vwdii. of wine, forever. We are indebted to the Historical 
Society of France for the ])ublicafcion of certain particulars 
Regarding anothei' royal visit to t'anterb'iry ; namely, that 
niatle by John, King (if b'rance, on his retui'ii from captivity 
in England, after the Treaty of Bretigny. dolin, with Philip, 
his youngest son, had been taken prisoners at the Held of 
I'oitiers, Sc[)t. L'(), l:].")!; ; and they were bi-ought to I'jigland 
by the Black Prince, in INIay following. 'J'heir route to Bon- 
don lay, according to the i-elation of Froissart, by Canter- 
bury and Rochester ; and he states that the captives rested 
for a day to make their offerings to Saint Thomas. 

The document which has supplied the following particu- 
lars of the visit on their quitting England is the account by 
the king's chaplain and notary of the expenditure during 
the last year of his captivity, from Jidy 1, 1359, to July 8, 
13G0, wdien John landed at Calais.^ 

On the last day of June, 1.3G0, John took his departure 
from the Tower of London, and proceeded to Eltham Palace, 

1 Comptes de I'Argeiiterie des Rois de France au XtV« .sii-cle, edited by 
L. Douiit-d'Ai'cq for the Soci^t^ de I'Hi.stoire de France. FarLs, 1851. The 
Journal of King John's expenses in England commences at page 194, and 
it is followed by an Itinerary of the king's captivity in England (pp. 278- 
284). This curious Journal is preserved ia the Imperial Library at Paris. 



324 PILGRIMAGE OF JOHN OF FRANCE. 

where a griiiul farewell eutertaiiiuieiit had been prepared by 
Queen Philippa;uu the next day, July 1, alter dinner the 
king took his leave, and passed the night at Dartturd. It 
may suffice to observe that five days were occupied in his 
journey to Canterbury, where he arrived on duly 4, re- 
maining one night, and proceeded on the following day, 
being Sunday, to Dover. The jou.rnal records the frequent 
offerings and alms dispensed liberally by the king at various 
places along his route from Eltham, — to the friars at Dart- 
ford ; the master and bi'others of the Ostel Dieu, at Uspring, 
where he lodged fur the night; to four maladeries, or hos- 
pitals for lepers; and to " INlessire Richard Lexden, chevalier 
anglois qui est herniite lez Stiliorne" (Sittingbourne). The 
knightly anchorite received no less than twenty nobles, val- 
ued at £0 13.S-. \J. As John passed Harbledown, ten escuz, 
or 23.S. \iL, were given by the king's command as alms to the 
" nonains de Helbadonne lez Cantorberie." ^ 

The following entries record the offerings of the king and 
of Pliilip, his son, afterwards Duke of Burgundy, the compan- 
ion of his captivity : " Le Roy, ofl'erande faicte par li en 3 
lieux de I'eglise de S. Thomas de Cantorberie, sans les joy- 
aux (pi'ily donna, 10 nobles, valent £33 65. 8f/. Monseigncnr 
Philippe, pour samblable, en ce lieu, 16 royaux, 3.s. piece." -^ 
The three places at which the king's offerings were made 
may probably have been the shrine, the altar ad pimcttnii 
ensis in the Martyrdom, and the head of the saint, described 
by Erasmus as shown in the ciypt.^ The jewels presented 
by John on this occasion ai'e not described ; but they were 
I)robably of a costly character, since his offering in money 

1 Journal <le la depense du Roi Jean, ]x 272. 

2 In the Houseliold Accounts of 25, 2G Edward HI., the ohlations of 
Queen Philippa are thus recorded: "At the shrine, lO.s. ; nt the punctnm 
ensis, Ps. ; and in alms, 12(f." Edmund of Woodstock offered at the same 
time 12c?. at the shrine; the like amount at the image of the Virgin in the 
crypt (mi vo/<«), at th& pimctum ensis, and at the head of Saint Thomas. 
(Battely, p. 20.) Edward I. appears to have iireseiited MnnviMyvLjirmaciihim 
of gold, value £b, at tlie shrine and at the iiiiaur of tlir Virgin in vnuta; and 
ornaments of the same v;dne were offered in Uk' uanie of his queen and of 
Prince Edward. (Liber Garderobe Edw. 1.) 



PILGRIMAGE OF .-TOIIN OF FRANCE. 32;j 

amounted only to ten nobles, whereas at St. Augustine's, 
where he heard IMass on the Sunday morning before his 
departure for the coast, his offering- was seventy-live nobles.^ 
Tliese j'>!/(ti(.f may have been precious olijects of ornament 
which the king had about his person at the moment, and 
they were accordingly not entered by the chaplain amongst 
current expenses. The offerings at the shrine were usually, 
it is well known, rings, brooches or firmacnla, and the like. 
The precious Regale of France appears to have actually been 
worn by Louis VII. at the time of his pilgrimage, when he 
offered that jewel to tlic saint. 

On the oth of .July, .lohn reached Dover, and took u]) his 
lodging with the bi-others of the Maison Dieu, where travel- 
lers and pilgrims were couslantly entc^rtained. < >n the mor- 
row he dined with tiie Ti-ince of Wales at the Castle, and set 
sail for Calais after dinner on the following day (.Inly (j) 
with the shipping provided by Edwaid III. for his accom- 
modation. He made an offering to Saint NiclK)las for the 
vessel in which he crossed tlie Channel, and reached Calais 
safely on July 8. Edward sent as a parting gift to liis 
royal captive a chess-board ("j. instrument appelh' Tesche 
quier"), which must have been of consideral)le value, since 
twenty nobles were given to the maker, wlio brought it to 
the king. He presented also a more appropriate gift, — the 
(/ohelet in which he was accustomed to drink, — in return for 
which John sent " le propre henap a quoy il buvoit, qiu fii 
monseigneur St. Loys." '^ 

A. \X. 

1 TliP .iliiis oftlic Kill- of France were aistiil)nt,<'fl witli no iiigganlly 
hanii on this ocrasion. To tlie Friars preaclit-rs in Canterliurv lie gave twent \ 
nobles, as also to the Conieliers and the Aiigustinians, and smaller suni.i to 
the nmiains of Northgate and of St. Augustine, the women of the Hospital 
of our Lady, etc. (.Journal, p. 273.) 

2 Dncange, in his notes on Joinville, mentions this cup of gold which 
had been used by Saint Louis, and was preserved as a sacred relique ; and 
for a long time it was not used, through respect to the saint. It is described 
in the time of Louis X., as '•' la coupe d'or S. Loys, oil I'on ue boit jioint." 



S'2G DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 



NOTE F. 

DOCUMENTS PRESERVED AMONGST THE RECORDS IN 
THE TREASURY AT CANTERBURY. 

1. — Grant of thk Manor of Doccombe uy William de Tract. 
(Seep. 1.30.) 

Amongst the possessions of the monastery of Christ 
Church, Canterbury, enumerated in the list of the " Dona- 
tiones Maneriorum et Ecclesiarum," published by Somner, 
and given in the Monasticon, the grant of Doccombe is re- 
corded : ^ " Willielmus Tracy dedit Doccombe tempore Heu- 
rici .secundi, idem domum confirmantis." The manor of 
Doccombe, Daccombe, or Dockiiam, in the parish of Moreton 
Hampstead, Devonshire, still forms part of the possessions 
of the church of Canterbury. 

The grant by William de I'racy has not, as far as I can 
ascertain, been printed ; nor, with tlie exception of a note 
appended to Lord Lyttelton's " Life of Henry IL," have I 
found mention of the existence of such a document, with 
the seal described as that of Tracy appended, preserved in 
the Treasury at Canterbury. There can be no doubt that 
the granter was the identical William de Tracy who took so 
prominent a part in the murder of Thomas a. Becket. Lord 
Lyttelton supposed that it might be his grandson.'^ The 
document is not dated ; but there is evidence that the grant 
was made within a short period after that event, which took 
place on Dec. 29, 1170. 

The confirmation by Henry IL of Tracy's grant at Doc- 
combe is tested at "Westminster, the regnal year not being 
stated. Amongst the witnesses, however, occur " R. Electo 
Winton, R. Electo Hereford, Johanne Decano Sarum." 

1 Snniiipf's Antii|iuties of Canterlmry, Aiiiif-mlix, p. 40; Monast. Aiigl., 
Caley's edition, i. 98. In the Valor, 'iti lien. VIII., tlie manor of Doc- 
combe, i>ait of the possessions of Ciirist t'hurch, is valued at £6 6s. Sd. 
per annum. 

3 Lord Lyttelton's Life of Henry 11., iv. 284. 



DOCUMENTS IN TIIK CANTEKBURY TREASURY. 327 

Jtichard 'Poelivc was elected Bishop of Winchester, May 1, 
1173; confirmod and consecrated in October, 1174. Rob- 
ert Foliot was elected Bishop of Hereford in 1173, and 
consecrated in October, 1174. John de Oxeneford was 
Dean of Sarum from 11().3 until he was raised to the See 
of Norwich in 1175. It was only on July 8, 1174, that 
Henry II. returned to England after a lengthened alisence 
amongst his French possessions : he crossed to Southampton, 
and forthwith i)roceeded to Canterbury, to perform his mem- 
orable humiliation at the Shrine of St. Thomas. The date 
of his confirmation of Tracy's gift is thus ascertained to be 
between July and October, 1174, and probably inunediately 
on the king's arrival at "Westminster after his pUgrimage 
to Canterbury.^ 

Tracy's gift had niorecn'or, as it appears, been regarded 
by the monks of Christ Church as an oblation to make .some 
amends for his crime. In one of the registers of the monas- 
tery a transcript of a letter has been preserved, addressed 
by Prior Henry de Estria to Hugh de Courtenay.^ It bears 
date July 4, 1322, and reminds Sir Hugh — doubtless the 
second baron of (Jkeliampton of that name, and subsequently 
created Earl of Devon by Edward III. — that the charter of 
William de Tracy, with the confirmation by Henry II,, had 
been shown to him as evidence regarding " la petite terre qe 
le dit William dona a nostre esglise et a nous a Dockumbe, 
en pure et perpetuele almoigne, pur la mort Saint Thomas." 
The Prior re(piests accordingly his orders to his " ministres" 
at that place to leave the tenants of the monastery in peace- 
able possession. 

Orif/inal Charier, Canlerhiirf/ Treaf^iiri/, D. 20. 
Willelmus de Traci omnibus hominibus suis tam Francis 
quam Anglis, et amicis, et ballivis, et ministris, et omnibus 
ad quos littere iste perveuerint, Salutem. Dono et concede 

1 This confirmation by Henry II. may lie found in the Registers, 2, fol. 
400, and 8, fol. 26, verso. 

2 Register K, 12, fol. 129, rerso. 



32S DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

Cnpitula Cantuar' pro amorc del et salute aiiime moe, pve- 
decessorum meorum, et amore beati Thome Arcliipresiilis 
et Martiris memorie venerande, in ])urain et perpetuam 
elemosinam, Centum solidatas terre in Mortuna, scilicet 
Documbam cum pertinentiis et cum terris affinioribus, ita 
quod ex Documba et aliis terris proximis perficiantur centum 
ille solidate terre. Hoc autem dono ad monachnm unum- 
vestiendum et pascendum omnibus diebus secul' ^ in domo 
ilia, qui ibi divina celebret pro salute vivorum etrequie de- 
functorum. Ut hoc autem firmiun sit et ratum et inconcus- 
sum et stabile sigilli mei muniniine et Carta mea confirmo. 
Ilis testibus, Abbate de Eufeniia, IMagistro Radulfo' de 
Hospitali, Pagano de Tirn', Willelmo clerico, Stephano de 
Pirforde, Pagano de Aeforde,- liogcro Anglico, Godefrido 
Itibaldo et aliis. 

To this document is appended a seal of white wax, the 
form pointed oval, the design rudely executed, representing 
a female figure with very long sleeves reaching nearly to 
her feet. Some traces of letters may be discerned around 
tlie margin of the seal, but too much worn away to be deci- 
phered. It must be observed that notwithstanding the ex- 
pression "sigilli mei munimine," it can scarcely be supposed 
that this seal was actually that customarily nsed by Tracy. 
The pointed oval form was almost exclusively appropriated 
to seals of ladies, ecclesiastics, and conventual establish- 
ments. The figure a manches vial tallies is a device seem- 
ingly most inappropriate to tlie knightly Trac3% It is 
probable, and not inconsistent with the ancient practice 
of sealing, that having no seal of iiis own at hand, he had 
borrowed one for the occasion. The first of the witnesses 
is described as the Abbot of Eufemia."'' This may have lieen 

1 Proha1>ly, srcrt//, forever; in place of the ordinary phrase imperpdiinm. 

2 Probably one of the family of Payne, which gave to the village of Ack- 
ford in Dorsetshire the name of " Ackford (or "Okeford") Fitz-Pain." 
(Hutcliins's Dorsetshire, iii. 351.) 

3 The conjecture seems not altogether inadmissible, that this seal may 
have been that of the Abbot, or of some member of the congregation of St. 



DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBUKY TREASURY. 329 

the monasteiy of some note on the western shores of the 
Calabria, near the town and gnlf of Sta. Eufemia, and abont 
sixty miles north of the Straits of Messina. It is remarka- 
ble that this place is not f;xr distant fi'om Cosenza, where, 
according to one dreadful tale of the fate of Becket's mur- 
derers, Tracy, having been sentenced with his accomplices, 
by Pope Alexander III., to expiate their crime in the Holy 
Land, had miserably died on his way thither, after confession 
to the bishop of the place.^ 

In regard to the other witnesses, I can only observe that 
Iv'oger de Acford occurs in the lied Book of the Exchequer, 
as holding pai-t of a knight's fee in the Honor of Barnstaple 
under William Trac\'. Payn may have been his sou or 
kinsman. I'irfordo may have been the place now known 
as Parfoi-(l, ne.ir Moretun llampstead. The correct reading 
of the name dc Tim'' may po.ssibly be Tiriin. The family 
de Turonil)us, settled in oai'l}' times at Dartington, Devon, 
were connected by marriage with the Tracys. 

Tiie fact that Tracy actually set forth on pilgrimage to 
the Holy Land, whicii some have seemed to (piestion, is 
proved by the following curious letter in one of tiie Canter- 
bury Registers : — 

t^hialiter Amicia uxor Willchni Thaiin post mortem viri sui 
terram quam vir ejus dedit Saiicto Thome ipsa postea dedit. 

Rcghler in the Canlerhnr// Treasiiri/, 2, Jnl. 400. 

^'iro venerabili et amico in Christo, cai'issinio domino 

Johanni filio Galfridi, Anselmus Crassus Thesaurarius Exo- 

niensis^ salutem et paratain ad ol)si'([uia cum devocione vo- 

luntatem. IS^ovcrit quod (juadam die, cum dominam Ami- 

Eufciiiia; and that tlie llsnre may have represeiiteil tlip Virgin IMartyr 
of Chaleedon, a saint, greatly venerated in the Eastern C'hureli. The re- 
lique.s of Saint Eufemia were transferred into the ('iiun-h of St. Sopliia at 
Constantinople. 

1 Cosenza is .situated about eighteen miles north of Sta. Eufemia. 

2 Anselm Crassus, or Le Gros, was treasurer of E.xeter in 1205, and in 
1230 was made Bishop of St. Davitl'S. (Le Neve's Fasti, ed. by Hardy, 
i. 414.) 



330 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTEKBURY TllEASURY. 

ciam de la More mortuo virn suo Everardo Cholc in mancrio 
de Moreth' ^ visitassimns, dixit nobis qnod quidam nomine 
Willelmus Thaun vir ejns qui earn duxit in uxorem, cuin iter 
arriperet cum domino suo Willelmo do Traci versus terram 
sanctani, eam fecit jurare tactis sacrosanctis quod totam 
terram ipsius cum pertinentiis suis, quam dominus ejus 
Willelmus de Tracy ipsi Willelmo Thaun dedit pro homagio 
et servicio suo, beato Thome Martiri et Conventui ecclesie 
Christi Cantuariensis assignaret in perpetuum possidendam : 
defuncto autem predicto Willelmo Thaun in peregrinacione 
terre sancte eadem Amicia alium virum accepit, videlicet 
Everarddum Chole, per (piem im])edita voluntatem et votum 
primi viri sui Willelmi Thaun minimc ccnnplcvit. Volens 
autem dicta Amicia saluti animc sue providere in mamim 
iiostram totam terram Willelmi Thaun resignavit, et Con- 
ventum Ecclesie Christi Cantuariensis per nos pilliolo suo 
seisiavit. Nos vero, conventus dicte ecclesie utilitati secun- 
dum testamentum dicti Willelmi Thaun solicite providere 
curantes, seisinam dicte terre loco ipsius Conventus Cantu- 
ariensis benigne admisinnis, et ejusdem terre instrumenta 
omnia a dicta Amicia nobis commissa eidem Conventui Can- 
tuariensi restituimus. In cujus rei testimonium fieri fecimus 
presentes literas et sigillo nostro sigillari. 

T have not been able to ascertain who was the " Dominus 
Johannes filius Galfridi " to whom the Treasurer of Exeter 
addressed this communication. If the supposition be cor- 
rect that the transaction relates to certain lands in the par- 
ish of Morthoe, where the Tracys had considerable property, 
and where William de Tracy is supposed to have resided, at 
Wollacombe Trac}--, the presence of the Treasurer of Exeter 

1 Pei-lia]is Morthoe, where tlie Trac-ys liail estates and tlieir residenee. 
The word seems to lie written " Moredi';" Imt tlie letter i is often so formed 
as to be scarcely ilisf iimnisliahle from a c. In Lyson's Devonshire, a barton, 
named More, is iiieiitiDiicd in the parish of Moret.on Hampstead. It does 
not appear that the manor of Morthoe belonged to the Tracys. The 
manor of Daccombe had the custom of in-i-lic-nd, and the lord of tlie manor 
is obliged to keep a cucking-stool, for the punishment of seuhling women. 
(Lyson's Devonshire. ) 



DOCIMICNTS IN TFIE CANTEKBURY TREASURY. oM 

and Ills visit to the lady Amicia de la More are in some 
nieasui-e explained, since the advowson of Morthoe was part 
of the possessions of tlie church of Exeter. Amicia de la 
More, as it appears, was the wife of a certain William 
Thaun, who held land under William de Trac}-, and had 
gone with him to the Holy Land.' Before his departnre, 
however, Thaun had caused his wife to swear upon the (los- 
pels, foreseeing doubtless the uncertainty of his return, that 
she would duly assign over to Saint Thomas and the (Jouvent 
of Christ Church the land above mentioned. On his decease 
in tiie course of his journey, Amicia espoused Everard ('hole, 
l)y whose persuasion she neglected to fulfil her oath and tlic 
will of her deceased husband. On Everard's death, however, 
it appears that she was seized with I'cmorse, and took tiie 
occasion of the Treasurer's visit to make full confession, and 
to i-esign into liis hands the land held l)y William Thaun, 
giving the Convent of Christ ('hurcli seisin in the person of 
the Treasurer, by delivery of her caj) {jiiUidlnm), being the 
object probably most conveniently at hand. By the foregoing 
lettei-s under his seal, Anselm Crassus acknowledges seisin 
of the land for tlie use of the Convent of Canterbury, and 
restoi'es to them all ii/sfrini/citta. or documents of titles in- 
trusted to him on their behalf 

II. — TuK "Corona r.EATi Thome." (Sec p. l^r)."").) 

In searching the ancient accounts for any evidence i-egard- 
ing the shrine, or those parts of the Church of Canterbury 
whei-e the reliques of the saint were chiefly venerated, a few 
particidars have been noticed which suggest the reconsider- 
ation of the origin and true significance of the term Corona, 
" Becket's Crown," as applied to the round chapel and tower 
terminating the eastern part of the church. 

It had been concluded by several writers that this part of 

1 Sir W. Pole reives " More, of de la More " in lii.s Alpliabet of Arm.s 
of tlie olil Devon.sliire Gentry. Tlie ancient family of De la Mooi'e, named 
in later times at Moore, had their dwelling at Morebays, in the parish of 

Columpton. (Pole's Collections, p. 18(3.) 



332 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

the fabric, the coustnictiou <>f wliicli commenced, as we learn 
from Gervase, in 1180, had received this designation from 
the cirenmstance that the head of the saint had been placed 
there, eastward of his shrine. Matthew Parker, in his " Aii- 
tiquitates Britannicaj Ecclesia'," at the close of his Life of 
Becket, observes that at first Saint Tiiomas was placed less 
ostentatiously in the cr^qjt : " Ueinde sublimiori et excelso 
ac sumptuoso delubro conditus fuerit, in (jno caput ejus 
seorsim a cadavere situm, Thomas Martyris Corona appella- 
batnr, ad quod peregrinantes undique confluerent, munera- 
que preciosa deferrent," etc, Battely, Gostling, Ducarel, 
and Dart speak of " Becket's Crown," and appear to have 
connected the name with the supposed depository of tlie 
head of the saint, or of the portion of the skull cut otf by 
the murderers.^ 

Professor Willis, whose authority must be regarded with 
the greatest respect, rejects this supposition. " The no- 
tion," he remarks, " that this round chapel was called Beck- 
et's Crown, because part of liis skull was preserved here as 
a relic, appears wholly untenable." He considers the term 
corona as signifying the principal apse of a church, referring 
to a document relating to the Church of La Charite on the 
Loire, in which the Corona Ecclesi.e is mentioned.^ Mr. John 

1 Gostling observes (p. 12-'5): " At the east eiiil of the cliapel of the Holy 
Triuity, aiiotlier very luuiilsonie one \v:is added, called Becket's Crown; 
some suppose from its figure ijeiiig einulav aiiil the lilis of the arched roof 
meeting in a centre, as those of tlie (tdwh Kiyal <lii; ntliers on account of 
part of his skull being preserved here as a relic." 

^ Architectural History of Canterbury Cathedral, p. .^)(i, note. The 
learned professor observes tiiat, " at all events, it was a general term, and not 
peculiar to the Church of Canterbury." He cites, however, no other evi- 
dence of its use, e.\cept that above mentioned, given amongst the additions 
made by the Benedictines to Ducange's Glossary. " Corona Ecclesiw, f. 
Pars Tem])li choro postica, quod ea pars fere desinat in circulum. Charta 
auni 1170, in Tabulario B. Marioe de Charitate : Duo altaria in Corona 
Ecclesia2." " The Corona may also mean the aisle which often circum- 
scribes the east end of an apsidal church, and wiiich with its radiating 
chapels may.be said to crown its eastern extremity " (p. 141). It is said 
that the eastern apse represents the glory, or " nimbus," at the head of the 
crucifix, as the cruciform shape of the rest of the cathedral represents the 
cross. [But see the passage from Eadiuer (pioted on \). 336. — A. P. S.] 



DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBUllY TIIEASURY. 333 

Gtnigh Nichols has Hkewise sought to refute as a " popuhir 
eriur, into which uiauy writers have fallen," the miscoucep- 
tiou. which was as old, he remarks, as Archbishop Parker, 
that the head of 8aint Thomas was preserved iu that part 
of the cathedral called Becket's Crown. ^ 

The earliest mention of the Corona, as 1 believe, is in the 
licgisters of Henry de Esti'ia, Prior of Canterbury, in the 
enumei-ation of the " >Jova ( )pera in Ecclesia " in his times. 
Under the year l.'51-l is the enti'v : "Pro corona sancti 
'I'hoiiic auro et argvnto et lapidibus preciosis oriianda, cxv. 
li. xij. s." Jn the same year the Prior provided a new crest 
of gold for tlie shrine." The same record com[trises a list 
of the I'elics in the cathedral, amongst which are men- 
tioned, "("orjtus Sancti Odonis, in feretro, ad cornnaiii versus 
austrnm. — Coi-pus Sancti Wilfridi, in feretro, r^(/ coroiiam 
■versus aipiiloncin." It seems nnprobable tliat this large 
expenditure in jirecious metals and gems^ should relate 
to the apsidal chajiel, according to Professor Willis's expla- 
nation of the term Coroita, no portion of the building being 
specified to which such costly decoration was ai)[ilied. 'J'he 
expression would rather imply, as I conceive, the enrich- 
ment of some pi'ccious object, such as a jjki/lactcrluiiL i<crl- 
niimi, feretory, or the like, described as " Corona sancti 
Thome." The phrase; " «</ coronam," moreover, in the list 
of relics, can scarcely, I would submit, signify that the bod 
ies of Saint Odo and Saint Wilfrid were placed iu a build- 
ing or chapel called Corona, but rather implies that they 
were placed adjacent to some object known as Corona, at its 
north and south sides, respectively ; thus also in the context 
we find other reliques placed " ad altare," whilst others are 
described as " in navi Ecclesie," etc. 

1 Pilgrimages to Walsingliam and Canterbury, ]). 119. Mr. John Nich- 
ols, in his Royal Wills, ii. 70, adopted the impular opinion. The altar 
where the saint's head was, he i-eniarks, " was probal)ly in that part of the 
cathedral called Becket's Crown." 

2 Register 1. 11, fol. 212, Cantciluiry Treasury ; Register of Prior Henry, 
Cotton MS., Galba E. TV. 14, t..|. lo;j. 

3 Dart, Appendi.x, p. xlii. 



334 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

The Corona, like the shrine, the martirium and tumha, 
was in charge of a special officer, called the "Custos Corone 
beati Thome ; " and mention also occurs of the " Magister 
Corone," apparently the same official. In a " Book of Ac- 
counts " of one of the officers of the Monastery, preserved 
in the Chapter Library, the following entries occur under 
the head of " Oblaciones cum obvencionibus : " — 

" De Custode Corone beati Tliomc, xl.s. 

" l^enarii recepti pro vino conventus. — Item, de Custodi- 
bus Feretri Sancti Thome, xxx. s. Item, de Custode Corone 
8ancti Thome, xx. s. Item, de Custode Tumbe beati Thome, 
iij.s. iiij.d. Item, de Custode Martirii Sancti Thome, iij. s. 
iiij.d. Item, dc Custode beate Marie iu cryptis," etc. 30 
Henr. VI. (U51).i 

There were, it appears, three objects of especial venera- 
tion, — the feretrnvi in the Chapel of the Holy Trinity ; 
the puactioa easts, in the Martyrdom ; and the cajnd beati 
Thome. At each there was an altar. The iJlack Prince be- 
queathed tapestry to three altars, besides the high altar; 
namely, " I'autier la ou Mons'r Saint Thomas gist, I'autier 
la ou la teste est, I'autier la ou la poynte de I'espie est." 

The authority of Erasmus seems conclusive that the caput 
was shown in the crypt. After inspecting the cuspis gladii 
iu the ]\Iartyrdom, Erasmus says: " Hinc digressi subimus 
cryptoporticum : ea habet suos mystagogos : illic primum 
exhibetur calvaria martyris perforata ; reliqua tecta sunt 
argento, summa cranii pars nuda patet osculo." 

I have been induced to offer these notices from the con- 
viction that the apsidal chapel called Becket's Crown re- 
ceived that name from some precious oVy'ect connected with 
the cidtiLs of Saint Thomas of Canterbury, or from some pecu- 
liar feature of its decorations. This notion obviously sug- 
gests itself, that such an object may have been the reliquary 

1 MSS. in the Chapter Library, volume marked E. 6, fol. 33. Amongst 
the few evidences of this nature which have escaped destruction may l)e 
mentioned a cnriou.s Book of Accounts of William Inggram, Custos of tlie 
Martirium, MS. C. 11. It contains niucli information reganliDg the books 
in tlie library of the monastery, and other matters. 



DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTEKBUKY TREASURY. 335 

111 which the corojia,^ or upper portion of the cranium, cut off 
hy the savage stroke of Richard le Breton, was placed apart 
from the slvull itself. Tliis supi)osition, however, seems to 
be set aside l)y tlie inscription accompanying the drawing 
in Cotton MS. Tib. E, Vlll. fol. 2SG b, of which an accu- 
rate copy has been given in this vohiine. The manuscript 
surtered I'rom lire in 17-51, and the Ibllowing words only are 

now legible : '^ Tins cliest of iron cont bones 

of Thomas IJccket all witli the wounde . 

. . . and the pece cut " Thus rendered 

on Vaughan's plate, engraved from tiiis drawing when it 
was in a more perfect state (Dugdale, Monast. Angl., i. 18, 
orig. edit., printed in IG.").")). — " Loculus ille, (luem vides fer- 
reum, ossa Tiio: IJecketti cum calvaria necnoii rupta ilia 
cranii parte (pue mortem inferebat complectebatur." ^ 

It has been (piestioned wlietlicr any altar existed in Beck- 
et's Crown. The original stones still remaining on tlie 
raised platform at this extreme east end of the church still 
present traces of some arrangement which does not a[)pear 
to indicate the position of an altar, but ratlier of some 
railing, or dausura, which may have protected the object of 
veneration there displayed. No clew appears to direct the 
inquiry as to its character, with the exception of the brief 

1 Corona properly designated the circle of hair left on the priest's head by 
the tonsure. " Fit corona ex rasura in snininitate cajiitis, et tonsione ca- 
pillornin in parte capitis inferiore, et sic circulus capillornni propriedicitur 
corona." — Lyndwood. "The hair was shorn from the top of the head, 
more or less wide, according as the wearer happened to be high or low 
in order."— Dk. Rock's Church of our Fothers, i. 187. The word is 
used in the accounts of Becket's murder to describe the upper part of the 
skull, or brain-pan. Thus Fitzstephen says: " Corona capitis tota ei ani- 
putata est; " and he describes the .savage act of Hugh de Horsea, — "a con 
cavitate coron;B amputate cum mucrone cruorem et cerebrum extrahebat." 
(Ed. Sparkes, p. 87.) Diceto states that Becket received his death -wound 
" in corona cajjitis." (Ang. Sacra, ii. 691.) 

2 On comparing this drawing with Stuw's account of the removal of 
Becket's Shrine, it seems almost certain that this liiciilii,s ferreus, shown 
vitli the shrine in the Cotton MS., was the " chest of yron conteyning the 
bones of Thomas Becket, skull and all, with the wounde of his death, and 
the peece cut out of his scull layde in the same wound." This chest is di.s- 
tinctly said by Stpw to have been wilhiu the shrine. (See p. 2GS.) 



336 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

uotice of Erasmus, who seems to allude to Becket's Crown 
when speaking of the upper cluirch behuul the high altar: 
" Illic in sacello cpiodam ostcuditur tota facies optimi viri 
inaurata, multisque gemmis insignita." May not tliis have 
been an image of Saint Thomas, or one of those gorgeously 
enriched busts, of life size, covered with precious metals and 
richly jewelled, — a class of reliquaries of which remarkable 
examples still exist in many continental churches'} Such a 
reliquary existed in 1295 at St. Paul's, London, and is de- 
scribed in an inventory given by Dugdale as " Capud S, 
Athelberti Eegis in capsa ai-gentea deaurata, fticta ad mo- 
dum capitis Regis cum corona continente in circulo xvi. 
lapides majores," etc. 

In conclusion, I will only irivitc attention to the prob- 
ability that a capsa of this description, highly suitable to 
receive so remarkable a reliciue as the coroiui of Becket's 
skull separate from the other remains of the saint, may have 
been displayed in the apsidal cha})el thence designated 
"Becket's Crown." If it be sought to controvert such a 
supposition by the conflicting evidence of the Cotton MS, of 
Erasmus's Colloquy, or of Stow's Annals, it can only be said 
that it is as impracticable to reconcile such discrepancies as 
to explain the triple heads of Saint John the Baptist. The 
royal Declaration of 1539 records that Becket's "head almost 
hole was found with the rest of the bones closed within the 
shryne, and that there was in that church a great skull of 
another head, but much greater by three-quarter parts than 
that part which was lacking in the head closed within the 
shryne." [A passage has been pointed out to me in Ead- 
mer's Hist. Nov., ii. 92, where, describing the difficulty of 
determining the place of the Archbishop of Canterbury 
(Anselm) then for the first time appearing in a Roman 
council, he says, " in corond sedes illi posita est, (nil locus 
non obscuri honoris in tali conventu solet haberi." This 
conArms Professor Willis's view. — A. P. S.l 



DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTEKHURY TKEA8UKY. oo7 

III. — Miraculous Cukes at the Siiuine oe St. Thomas. 
(See pp. 2:26, 295.) 

The contemporary writers are ditiiise in the enumeration 
of the maladies for wliich a remedy was sought by multi- 
tudes from the reliques of Saint Tiiomas, and the miracles 
effected. Gervase states tliat two volumes of such miracles 
were extant at Canterbury. 

Having been favored with unusual facilities of access to the 
ancient registers and evidences preserved in the Treasury,^ 
in searching for materials which might throw light ujjon the 
subjects to which this volume relates, I have been surprised 
at the extreme paucity of information regarding Becket, or 
any part of the church specially connected with the venera- 
tion shown towards him. Scarcely is an item to be found 
in the various IJolls of Account making mention of Saint 
Thomas ; and where his name occurred, it has for the most 
part been carefully erased. AVith the exception of cex'tain 
Papal Bulls, and some communication regarding Canterbuiy 
Jubilees, the name is scarcely to be found in the long series 
of registers. We seek in vain for any schedule of the ac- 
cumulated wealth which surrounded his shrine : even in the 
long inventory of plate and vestments left in 1540 by the 
Commissioners after the surrender, " till the king's pleasure 
be further declared," and subscribed by Cranmer's own 
hand, the words " Storye of Thomas Beket," in the descrip- 
tion of a piece of embroidered velvet, are blotted out. It is 
remarkable to notice the pains bestowed on the destruction 
of everything which might revive any memory of the saint. 

The followhig extracts from the registers have appeared 
to claim attention, because they are the only records of their 
class which have been found. A royal letter is not without 
interest, whatever may be its subject; and it is remarkable 

1 It is with nuich gratification that I wmild reconl the. aclvnowledgment 
of the ldnilne.ss of tlie Very Rev. the Dean Lyall, the Ven. ArclKk-acon 
Harrison, and of otlier members of tlie Chapter, in the liberal permission to 
prosecute my investigation of these valuable materials for local and general 
history. — A. W. 



338 DOCUMENTS IxN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

to find Richard II. congratulating the Primate on the good 
influence anticipated from a fresh miracle at the Shrine of 
Becket, in counteracting the doctrine of Wyclifte, or the 
perilous growth of Lollardism. The subject of the miracle 
appeat-s to have been a foreigner, probably of distinction ; 
but I found no clew to identify who the person may have 
been. 

The second of these documents appears to be a kind of 
encyclical certificate of a noted cure miraculously effected in 
the person of a young Scotchman, Alexander, son of Stephen 
of Aberdeen ; and it is remarkable as showing the widely 
spread credence in the efficacy of a pilgrimage to St. Thomas, 
and the singular formality with which it was thought expe- 
dient to authenticate and publish the miracle. 

This document, moreover, states that Saint Thomas having 
(with the succor of Divine clemency) restoi-ed to the said 
Alexander the nse of his feet, he proceeded, in pursuance of 
his vow, to the Holy Blood of Wilsnake, and returned safe 
and sound to the shrine of the Martja-. I am not aware that 
mention has been made by English writers of the celebrated 
relique formerly preserved at Wilsnake, in Prussia ; and, al- 
though not connected with Canterbury, a brief account "of 
the origin of this pilgrimage, which appears to have been 
much in vogue in our own country, may not be inadmissible 
in these notes. I am indebted to the learned biographer of 
Alfred, Dr. Paidi, for directing my attention to "Wilsnake 
and the curious legend of the Holy Blood. 

Wilsnack, or Wilsnake, is a small town in the north part 
of the Mark of Brandenburg.^ In a time of popular connno- 
tion, in 1383, the town, with its church, was burned. Tlie 
priest, Crantzius relates, having been recalled by a vision to 
perform Mass in the ruined fabric, found the altar standing, 
the candles upon it, and between them, in a napkin oi- cor- 
poral, three consecrated hosts, nnited into one and stained 
with blood. Another account states that searching amongst 

i All account of Wilsnack is given by Stenzel, iu his " Gescliichte ties 
Preussisclieu Staats," i. 175. 



DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTEPxBUKV TREASURY. 339 

the ashes near the altar, he discovered the bleedhig wafers. 
The priest hastened to his diocesan, tlie Bishop of Havel- 
berg : he came with his clergy and certified this miracle, 
which was forthwith proclaimed far and near. liefore the 
close of the century innumerable pilgrims visited the place, 
kings and princes sent costly gifts, and Pope Urban VI. pro- 
mulgated indulgences to the faithful who repaii'ed thither. i 
From all quarters, says Crantzius, votaries came in crowds, 
— from Hungary, France, England, .Scotland, Denmark, 
Sweden, Norway. The fame of the reliijue may have quickly 
spread to our own island, as M. Pauii observes, througb 
the numerous English knights wlio about that time trav- 
ersed the North of Europe to join the Teutonic knigiits in 
Prussia. 

The miracle, it is alleged, soon engrossed so much atten- 
tion that neighboring churches where noted reliques were pre- 
served became neglected. Inquiry was instituted ; and the 
Archbishop of Prague sent a deputy to investigate the mat- 
ter, — no less a person tiian John Huss, who with the fear- 
less spirit of tlie Reformer ex])osed the abuses practised at 
Wilsnake. He wrote a remarkable treatise on superstitions 
of the same nature in various places.^ In 1400 the learned 
Wunschebergius also assailed the feigned miracles of Wil- 
snake, and an eminent canon of Magdebm-g put forth a phi- 
lippic against the prelate who tolerated such pious fi-auds 
for lucre's sake. It was, however, of no avail ; the Bishop 

1 Leaden signs, or sif/nnada, representing the lileeding wafers, were dis- 
tiiliuted to pilgrims in like manner as the anipulke of Saint Thomas, or tlie 
mitred heads, — tolcensof their journey to Canterlniry, as mentioned in tliis 
volume (pp 272, 274). Several signs of Saint Thomas are represented in 
Mr. Roach Smith's Collectanea, i. 83, ii. 46-49. 

'- The " Holy Blood "' of our Lord was believed to exist in various places, 
of which Mantua was the most celebrated. M. Paris relates that Henry III. 
presented to the monks of Westminster in 1247 some of the blood slied at 
the crucifixion, wliicli ln' had inciviMl from the Master of the Templars. 
The Earl of Coin wall '^aAc a jiortion to Hayles Alibey, — a relique much 
celebrated, and to whicli allusion is made by Cliaucer. He gave a portion to 
the College of Eons Hommes at Ashridge, near to Berkhamp.stead. It was 
exhibited by the Bishoj) of Rochester, at Paul's Cross, in 1538, and iiroved 
to be lioney colored with saffron. 



340 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTEKBUUY TRExiSLKY. 

of Havelberg sustained his suit at Home Avith energy ; the 
Papal approbation was renewed ; the credit of the Holy 
Blood was confirmed by the Councils of Constance and Basle. 

In the sixteenth century Matthew Ludecus, Dean of Ha- 
velberg, compiled the history of this superstition. There 
was, he relates, a large balance suspended in the church of 
Wilsnake. In one scale it was usual to place the pilgrim 
who sought remission of his offences ; in the other were 
piled his oblations, bread and flesh, perhaps cheese, or other 
homely offerings. If tlie visitor seemed wealthy, no impres- 
sion was made on the beam ; the priest affirming that indeed 
he must be a grievous offender, whose crimes could not be 
expiated without more valuable oblations. At length, by 
some secret contrivance, the scale was permitted to fall.^ 

Huss has narrated a characteristic anecdote of the miracu- 
lous fallacies of Wilsnake. A citizen of Prague, Petrziko 
de Ach, affected with a withered arm, offered a silver hand, 
and desiring to discover what the priests would put forth 
concerning his costly gift, he tarried till the third day, and 
repaired unnoticed to the church. As it chanced, the pj-iest 
w^as in the pulpit, declaiming to tlie assembled votaries, " Au- 
dite pueri miraculum ! " — " Behold, a citizen of Prague has 
been healed by the Holy Blood, and see here how he hath 
offered a silver hand in testimony of his cure ! " But the 
sufferer, standing up, with arm upraised, exclaimed, '• Oh, 
priest, what falsehood is thisi Behold my hand, still with 
ered as before!" "Of this," observes PIuss, "his friends 
and kinsmen at Prague are witnesses to this day." 

It was only in 1551 that Joachim Elfeldt, becoming pastor 
of the church, being imbued with the Reformed faith, put 
an end to the superstition, and committed the wafers to 
the flames. The canons of Havelberg, indignant that their 
gains were gone, threw him into prison, and sought to bring 
him to the stake; but he was rescued by the Elector of 
Brandenburg. A. W. 

1 A envious woodcut represcTitius; tliis proceeding is given by Wolfius, in 
Ills " Lectiones Meiuorabiles," p. Oli). 



DOCUMENTS I\ THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 341 

Litera cloinini liegis graciosa niissa domino avchiepiscopo, 
rcgraciando sibi de novo miraculo Sancti Thome Martins 
sibi denunciato.-^ {Circa a. d. 1393, temp. liich. II.) 

llegiMer of Christ Church, Caiiterhurij, R. 19, fol. 15. 

Trcsrcvcrcnt piere en dicu et iiostro trescher Cosyn, nous 
vous saloioms tresovent denter coer, vous ensauntz savoir qe 
a la fesaunce de cestes noz lettres nous estoioms en bone 
sancte, merciez ent soit nostre seiguonr, et avoms tresgraunt 
dcsyr de trestout nostre coer davoir de vous sovent novelles 
somblables, des quex vous priomos {sic) cheremcnt qaeercer 
nous vuillcz de temps en temps an phiis sovent qe vous 
])ui-rez boneuient pur nostre graunt contort et singuler ple- 
saunce. Si vous rnercioms trescher Cosyn tresperfitement 
de coer de voz lettres, et avons presentement envoyez, et par 
especial quen si bref nous avetz certefiez du miracle quore 
tarde avint en vostre esglise au seynt feretre du glorious 
martir Seint Tiiomas, et avoms, ce nous est avis tresgrant et 
excellente cause et nous et vous de ent mercier lui haut 
soverayn mostre {V) des miracles, (jui ceste miracle ad pleu 
monstrer en noz temps, et en une persone estrannge, sicome 
jiur extendre as parties estraungez et lointeines la gloriouse 
deisoii ^ verray martyr susdit. Nous semble parmi ce qe 
nous sumes trcsliautemcns tenuz de luy locr et ent rendre 
merciz et graciz, et si le voiloms faire parmi sa grace de 
nostre enter poor sauntz feintise ; especialment vous enpri- 
auntz qe paraillement de vostre fait le vnillez faire a lionour 
de Iny de qui sourde tout bien et lionour, et an bone cxam- 
j)lo dc touz noz sul)gestez. Et verramient treschier Cosyn 
nous avoms trespcrtit espiraunce qen temps de nous et 
de vous serront noz noblez et seyntes predecessours pbiis 
glorifiez qe devant longe temps nont estez, dont le cause 

1 Tliis letter was written, r.s may lie snp]ioseil from the ]ilaee in wliich it 
is founil in the Register, and the dates of diMuinients accoiniianying it, aliont 
A. D. 1393. If this conjecture lie correct, it was addressed by Richard II. to 
William Courtenay, Arclibisliop of Canterbury from 1381 to 1396. 

2 This jias.sage is apparently incomplete, or incorrectly copied into the 
Register. The sense may, however, be easily gathered from the context. 



342 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

verisemblable qe nous moeve est celle quen noz temps, ceste 
assavoir de present, noz foio et creaunee omit plnsouvs 
enemys qe de temps hors de niemorie navoient, las quex par 
la mercie de mercie (sir) de Jhesu Crist et ces gloriousez 
miracles serount a ce qe nous creouns de lour erroure con- 
vertyz a voie de salue ; celui dieu de sa haute puissaunce 
lottroie a la gloria da luy et da toutz seyntz, et la salvacioun 
da soen poepla universele. Trescher Cosyn de vous vouellez, 
et de tout cpiamque vous vorrez auxi devers vous nous car- 
tefiez pur nostra amour, sachauntz qe nous vorroms tres- 
volunters faire tout ce qa honour vous pui'ra tourner et 
plesir. Et le seynt esprit vou eit en sa garde. Dona souz 
nostre signet, a nostre Chastelle de Corf, le vij. jour daugst. 

De quodam miraculo ostenso ad feretrum beati Thome Can- 
tuarieusis. Litera Testimouialis (a. d. 1445). 

Register of Christ Church, Canterhurij, R. 19, fol. 163. 

Universis sancte matris ecclesie tiliis ad quos presentes 
litere nostre pervenerint, Johannes permissione divina prior 
Ecclesia Christi Cantuariensis,^ et ejusdem loci C^apitulum, 
Salutem et semper in domino gloriari. Cum fidelis quilibet 
Christicola divine majestatiscultor de mirifica Dei clemencia 
gloriari et mente extolli tenetur, apostolica sic dictante sen- 
tentia, "Qui gloriatur in domiui glorietur," ^ in Dei laudis 
magnificenciam ore et mente laidique pi'ovocamui-, tum 
immensis operibus suis operator est semper Dens mirabilis 
et in sanctorimi suorum miraculis coruscaus gloriosus. 
Unde, cum nuper in nostra sancta tocius Anglie metropoli 
novum et stii])endinn per divina operacionis clemenciam in 
mentis sancti martiris Thome Cantuariensis experti sumus 
miraculum, Deum laudare et ejus potenciam glorificai'e ob- 
ligamur, quam totus orbis tcrravum ympnis et laudibus 
devote laudare non ccssat. Xam cum Allexander Stephani 
filius in Scocia, de Aberdyn oppido natus, pcdibus contractus 

1 John Salisbury, wlio Iji'caiiie I'rior in 1437, ami died in 1446. 

2 1 Cor. i. 31. 



CRESCENT IN THE ROOF OF TRINITY CHAPEL. 343 

vigintiquatuor annis ab ortu suo penaliter laborabat/ ad 
instanciam cujiisdam matrone votum ad Feretrum sancti 
Thome eraittens, per graudia laboruin vehicula cum cetero- 
rum impotencium instrumontis, sujjra genua debilia ad fere- 
trum predictum pervenit, ibique beatus Thomas, divina 
opitulante clemencia, secundo die mensis Maii proximi ante 
datum presentium, bases et plantas eidem AUexandro ilico 
restituit. Et in voti sui deinde complementum ad sangui- 
nem sanctum de Wilsnake, divino permittente auxilio, sanus 
et firmus adiit, et in martiris sui Thome merito ad feretrum 
illius prospere revenit. Nos igitur, divine majestatis gloriam 
sub iguorancie tenebris latitare nolentes, sed super fidei tec- 
tum predicare affectantes, ut Christi cunctis fidelibus valeat 
undique coruscare, ea que de jure ad probacionem requiren- 
tur miraculi, sub sacramento dicti Allexandri necnon aliorum 
fide dignorum de oppido predicto, videlicet Allexander Arat 
generosi, Robertique filii David, et Johannis Thome filii, 
legitime comprobato, in nostra sancta Cantuariensi ecclesia 
fecimus solempniter publicari. Unde universitati supplica- 
nius literas per presentes quatinus dignetis Deum laudare 
de (1) sancto martire ejus Thoma Cantuariensi, in cujus 
mentis ecclesiam suam unicam sibi sponsam in extirpacio- 
nem heresum et errorum variis miraculis pluribus decursis 
temporibus nnrifice hucusque deCoravit. In cujus rei testi- 
monium, &c. Dat' Cantuaria in domo nostra Capitulari, 
xxvij.'"°die Mensis Julii, Anno Domini Millesimo ccc'"°. xlv'". 



NOTE G. 



THE CRESCENT IN THE ROOF OF CANTERBURY 
CATHEDRAL. (See p. 2G6.) * 

The Crescent in the roof of Canterbury Catlicdral, above 
the Shrine of Becket, has given rise to much perplexity. 

1 Amongst, the iiiiiaculous cures obtained by pilgrims, Fitzsteijhen spe- 
cially mentions " contractis membrornin linea meiita extensa et tlirecta 
sunt." (Vita S. Thome, ed. Sparkes, p. 90.) 



344 CRESCENT IN THE ROOF OF TRINITY CHAPEL. 

One obvious solution has often been sought in tlie compara- 
tively modern legend of Becket's Saracen mother. Anotiier 
theory has referred the crescent to the cultus of the Vir- 
gin, who is often repi'esented (in allusion to Rev. xii. 1) as 
standing on the moon. The emblem, it is thought, might 
have been appropriate in this place, both as occupying the 
usual site of the Lady Chapel and as containing the tomb 
of one who considered himself under her special patronage. 
A third conjecture supposes the crescent to have been put 
up by the Crusaders in reference to the well-known title of 
Becket, "Saint Thomas of Acre," and to the success which his 
intercession was supposed to have achieved in driving the 
Saracens out of that fortress. If so, it possesses more than 
a local interest, as a proof that the crescent was already the 
emblem of the Seljukian Turks, long before the capture of 
Constantinople, which is assigned by Von Hammer as the date 
of the assumption of the Crescent by the Turkish power. 

In confirmation of this last view are subjoined the follow- 
ing interesting remarks of ]\Ir. George Austin, founded on 
actual inspection : — 

" Much difficulty has been found in attempting to account 
for the presence of this crescent in the roof of the Trinity 
Chapel. Even if the legend of Becket's mother had obtained 
credence at that early period, it may be observed that in 
the painted windows around, no reference is made to the 
subject, though evidently capable of so much pictorial ef- 
fect. But there are other difficulties which suggest another 
interpretation. 

" I have always believed it to have been one of a number 
of trophies which, in accordance with a well-known custom 
of the time, once adorned this part of the cathedral ; and I 
have been governed by the following reasons : First, that 
moi-e than one fresco painting of encounters with the East- 
tern infidels formerly ornamented the walls (the last traces 
of which were i-emoved during the restoration of the cathe- 
dral under Dean Percy, afterwards Bishop of Carlisle), and 
in one of which the green crescent flag of the enemy seems 



CRESCENT IN THE ROOF OF TRINITY CHAPEL. o45 

borne away by English archers. Might not these fres- 
cos liave depicted the fights in which these trophies were 
won 1 Secondly, that when the groined roof was relieved of 
the long-accnmulated coats of whitewash and repaired, some 
six-and-thirty years since, the crescent was taken down and 
re-gilt. It was found to be made of a foreign wood, some- 
what like in grain to the eastern wood known hy the name 
of iron-wood. It had been fastened to the groining l)y a 
large nail of very singular shape, with a large square head, 
apparently of foreign manufacture. 

" In the hollows of the groining which radiate from the 
crescent were a number of slight iron staples (the eyes of 
which were about Ih inch in diameter) driven into the 
ceiling, and about 12 inches farther from the crescent were 
a number of other staples about the' same diameter, but 
projecting 4 or 5 inches from the ceiling; many of these had 
been removed, and all bore traces of violence. Now, if the 
use of these staples could be accurately defined, it would, I 
think, demonstrate the origin of the crescent. They could 
only have been used, I think, either to attach to the ceil- 
ing the cords by which the wood canopy of the shrine was 
raised, or to suspend the lamps which doubtless were hung 
around the shrine below, or else to suspend trophies of 
which the crescent was the centre. But I believe there is 
little doubt that the shrine was not placed immediately be- 
neath the centre of these rings of staples, but more to the 
westward. But if not so placed, the canopy was doubtless 
raised by a pulley attached to the ceiling bj- one cord, and 
not by a web of upwards of twenty; and in addition to this, 
the staples were attached so slightly to the roof that they 
would not even have borne the weight of a cord alone, of the 
length sufficient to reach the pavement. And it does not 
seem likely that small lamps singly suspended from the 
groining would have been arranged in two small concentric 
circles, the inner only 2| feet in diameter, and the exterior 
but ih- Had this form been desired, the ancient form of 
chandelier would have been adopted. 



34G CRESCENT IN THE llOOE OF TRINITY CHAPEL. 

" These staples, then, could not l-.ave been used for those 
purposes ; but it will be seen that they are singularly well 
ada])ted for displaying some such trophy as a Hag or spear, 
for which no great strength was requisite ; and the posi- 
tion and peculiar form of the staples favor the supposition, 
as the diagram shows, A being the short staple and 1> the 
long one. 



>^^ 1^ 




" According to this view, the crescent would have formed 
the appropriate centre of a circle of Hags, hors'etails, etc., 
in the manner attempted to be shown in the following 
sketch." 




CUKES AT THE SIIIUNE UE ST. THOMAS. 347 



NOTE H. 

TIIIC MIRACLES OF BECKET, AS KErKESENTED IN 
THE PAINTED WINDOWS OF THE TUINITY CHAPEL 
IN CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL. (See jip. 226, 3H.) 

The space loft between the sleiiJeu groups of pillars 
round the Trinity Chaj)el has been so entirely tilled with 
windows, that it appears like a single zone of light, and the 
effect must have been magnificent when ever}^ window was 
filled with painted glass. 

Of these, inifortunately, but three remain ; but they are 
sutticient to attest their rare bcanty, and for excellence of 
drawing, harmony of coloring, and jnirity of design, are 
justly considered unequalled. The skill with which the mi- 
nute tigui'es are represented cannot even at this day be 
surpassed : it is e.Ktraordinary to see how evrry feeling of 
joy or sorrow, pain and enjoyment, is expressed both in fea- 
ture and position ; and even in the representation of the 
innumerable ills and diseases which were cured at the Mar- 
tj'r's Shrine, in no single case do we meet with any offence 
against good taste, by which the eye is so frequently shocked 
in the cathedrals of Bourges, Troyes, and Chartres. But in 
nothing is the superiority of these windows shown more than 
in the beautiful scrolls and borders which surround the win- 
dows, and gracefully connect the grouj)s of medallions. 

Unfortunately, the windows throughout the cathedral, 
besides the effects of the decree of Henry VIII. (mentioned 
on page 295), were, during the troubles of the Civil Wars, 
destroyed as high as a man could reacli up with a pike, at 
which time every figure of a priest or bishop was relentlessh' 
broken. These windows, like everything else around, seem 
to have aided in paying homage to the saint, upon whose 
shrine their tinted shadows fell. They were filled with 
illustrations of the miracles said to have been pei-formed by 
the saint after his death. Three, as has been said, still 



348 CURES AT THE SHRINE OF ST. THOMAS. 

remain, and fragments of others are scattered through the 
bnilding.^ 

As these windows were very similar in arrangement, it 
will be sufficient to describe one of them, that towards the 
east on the north of the shrine. 

The space of this window has been divided into geomet- 
ric patterns, each pattern consisting of a group of nine 
medallions ; and each of these groups has contained the illus- 
tration of one or more of the most imjjortant miracles said 
to have been performed at the shrine of the saint. 

This window has at some time been taken down, and 
the lights or medallions replaced without the slightest re- 
gai'd to their proper position, and the grciups of subjects are 
separated and intermixed throughout tlic windows. 

The lower group of medallions has been filled by illus- 
trations of a miracle, described by Benedict,^.where a child is 
miraculously restored to life by means of the saint's blood 
mixed with water, after having been drowned in the Mod- 
way, — the body having been hours in the water. Unfortu- 
nately, but three of these medallions have escaped. In the 
first medallion the boys are seen upon the banks of the Med- 
way jielting the frogs in the sedges along the stream with 
stones and sticks, whilst the son, is falling into the stream. In 
the next his companions are shown relating the accident, with 
hurried gestures, to his parents at the door of their house. 
And in the third we are again taken to the l)anks of the 
stream, where the parents stand gazing in violent grief up(ni 
the body of their son, which is being extracted from the 
water by a servant. The landscape in these medallions is 
exceedingly well rendered ; the trees are depicted with great 
grace. 

In the next group was portrayed a miracle, or rather 
succession of miracles. [The story, which is graphically 

1 A group representing the Martyrdom remains in the window of t.lio 
south transept of Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford. Becket's head lias 
Leen removed. — A. P. S. 

2 Benedict! de Miraculis S. Thonu-e Cantuar., iii. Gl. See pp. (J9, 200. 



CURES AT THE SIIKINE OE ST. THOMAS. 349 

tokl by Benedict, is as follows : "The household of a dis- 
tinguished knight, Jordan, sou of Eisulf, was struck with 
sickness. Amongst others died, first, the nurse of his son, 
and then the son himself, a l)oy often years old. ]\Iass was 
said, — the body laid out, — the parents wei'e in hopeless 
grief It so happened tliat there arrived, tiiat day, a band 
of twenty pilgrims from Canterbury, whom Jordan hospita- 
bly lodged, from old afiection's sake of the ]\Iartyr, whom he 
had intimately known. The arrival of the pilgrims recalled 
this friendship, — and ' Iiis heart,' he said, 'assui-ed him so 
positively of the Martyr's repugnance to the death of his 
son,' that he would not allow the hudy to be buiied. Fi-oui 
the pilgrims he borrowed some of the diluted water so often 
mentioned, and bade the priest pour it iutotiie boy's mouth. 
This was done without effect. He then himself uncovereil 
the body, raised the head, forced open tlie teeth witii a knife, 
and poured in a small draught. A small spot of red showed 
itself on tlie left cheek of the boy. A third draught was 
poured down the thi'oat. The boy o[)ened one c^e and said, 
'Why are you weeping. Father 1 Why are you crying, 
Lady 1 The blessed Martyr Thomas has restored me to 
you.' He was then speechless till evening. The fathei' jnit 
into his hands four pieces of silver, to be an offering to the 
Martyr Itefore jNlid-lent, and the parents sat and watched 
him. At evening he sat u]), ate, talked, and was restored. 

" l>ut the vow was forgotten, and on this a second series of 
wonders occtuTed. A leper three miles off was roused from 
his slumber by a voice calling him by name, '(jluir[), why 
sleepcst thou'?' lie rose, asked who called him, — was told 
that it was Thomas, Archl)ishop of Canterbury, and that he 
must go and warn the knight Jordan, son of Eisulf, of the 
evils that would befixll him unless he instantly fulfilled his 
vow. The leper, after some delay and repetitions of the 
vision, sent for the priest ; the priest refused to convey so 
idle a tale. Saint Thomas appeai^ed again, and ordered the 
leper to send his daughter for the knight and his wife. 
They came, heard, wondered, and fixed the last week in Lent 



350 CURES AT THE SIIKINE OF ST. THOMAS. 

for the performance of the vow. Unfortunately, a visit from 
the Lord Wai'den put it out of their heads. On the last day 
of the last week — that is, on Easter-eve — they were sud- 
denly startled by the illness of the eldest son, which ter- 
minated fVitally on the Friday after Easter. The parents 
fell sick at the same time, and no less than twenty of the 
household. The knight and his wife were determined at all 
hazard to accomplish their vow. By a violent effort, — aided 
by the sacred watei-, — they set off; the servants by a like 
exertion dragging themselves to the gate to see them depart. 
The lady fell into a swoon no less than seven times from the 
fatigue of the first day ; but at the view of the towers of 
Canterbury Cathedral she dismounted, and with her husband 
and son, barefoot, walked for the remaining three miles into 
Canterbury, and then the vow was discharged." 

This story, Benedict says, he received in a private letter 
from the priest.^ — A. V. 8.] 

In the first compai'tment wc see the funeral of the nurse. 
The body, covered by a largo yellow pall, is borne on a bier 
carried by four men. At tlio head walks the priest, clothed 
in a white close-fitting robe, adorned with a crimson chasu- 
ble, bearing in his right hand a book, and in his left the 
brush for sprinkling holy water. He is followed by a sec- 
ond priest, in a green dress, bearing a huge lighted taper ; 
the legend at foot runs thus : Nntricis fiinns reli'/nis S7ii, 
flacra mliudnr. The next medallion reprcsL-nts the son at 
the point of death stretched on a bier. Tlio priest at tlie 
head anoints the body with holy water, ami on the fnivli(\id 
of the child is the Viaticum, or Sacred Wafer. On a raised 
bench at the side sits the mother, absorbed in deep grief, and 
by her side tlie father, wringing his hands and gazing sor- 
rowfully at his expiring child ; the legend attached is, Per- 
cutitur pner moritur plaiictus f/eminatur. In the next com- 
partment of the group the mother stands at the head of the 
bier, raising and supporting lier son's head, whilst the father 
pours between the clinched lips the wonder-working blood 
1 Beuedict, iii. C2, 



CURES AT THE SHRINE OF ST. THOMAS. 351 

and water of St. Thomas. A short distance from the bier 
stand the pilgrims, reverently gazing upon the scene, each 
with his pilgrim's staff and bottle rjf " water of St. Thomas ; " 
the legend at foot runs, Vox jJ'^itris — vis martiris tit resti- 
tuatnr. Tlie vow so fatally delayed forms the subject of the 
next medallion. The boy is still reclining on the bier ; the 
mother is cai-essing her son with one hand, whilst with the 
other outstretched she gives to the father the QinUt(or 
avgeideos, which he demands, and v(.)ws to the saint. 

The neighboring compartment shows the son upon a 
couch, fast recovering, feeding himself with a spoon and 
basin. The parents are placed at each end of the couch in 
an attitude of thanksgiving. The following cartoon shows 
the old man struck with leprosy and bedridden. The Mar- 
tyr, dressed in full robes, stands at the liedside, and charges 
him with the warning to the parents of the child not to 
neglect the performance of the vow. In the next portion of 
the group the leper is represented in li,ed, conveying to the 
parents, who stand in deep attention at the bedside, the 
warning with which he has been charged by Saint Thomas. 
The leprosy of the sick man is veiy curiously slK)wn ; the 
legend, Credulus accedis . . . VDt . . . fei-t nee obedit. And 
now, forming the central medallion of the group, and the 
most important, is depicted the vengeance of the saint 
for the slighted vow and neglected warning. In the centre 
(if a large apartment stands a l)ier, <»n which is stretched 
the victim of the saint's wrath. At the head and feet of 
the corpse, loaning on lai'gc chairs or thrones, are the father 
nnd mother, distracted with grief, the latter with uncovered 
head and naked feet gazing with deep despondency on her 
dead child. Behind the bier are seen several figures in un- 
usually violent attitudes expressive of grief, from which cir- 
cumstance they are probably professional mourners ; whilst 
unseen by the persons beneath, the figure of Saint Thomas 
in full ])ontificals is appearini:; through the ceiling. lie 
l)cars in his right hand a Kivord, and points with his left to 
the dead body of the victim upon the bier. It is singular 



352 CUKES AT THE SllRlNE OF ST. THOMAS. 

that Becket i.s always represented in full e[)iscop;il cdstume, 
when appearing in dreams or visions, in these windows. The 
legend attached to this light is, Viudicte Dioles — Dovms 
egra — vioi'tua 2}foles. 

The last medallion of the group represents the final ac- 
complishment of the vow. The father is seen bending rev- 
erently before the altar of the saint, offering to the attend- 
ant priest a large bowl filled with broad gold and silver 
pieces. Near him is the mother, holding by the hand the 
son miraculously recalled to life. In token of their pilgrim- 
age, both the mother and sou hold the usual staves. Tlie 
expression of the various figures in the above compartments, 
both in gesture and feature, is rendered with great skill. 
In the execution of this story the points which doubtless 
the artists of the monastciy were chiefly anxious to impress 
upon the minds of the devotees who thronged to the shrine 
are prominently brought out : the extreme danger of delay- 
ing the performance of a vow. under wiiatever circumstances 
made ; the expiation sternly required by the saint ; and the 
satisfaction with wiiich the Martyr viewed money olferings 
made at his shrine. 

The fulness with which the last group has been described 
will reiwler it less necessary to speak at length of the rest 
of the window, as similar miracles described by Benedict 
are in the same minute manner represented. 

The group above should consist of two miracles, — the 
first described by Benedict,^ whei'ein Bobert, a smith from 
the Isle of Thanet, is miraculously cured of blindness. In 
a dream he is directed by Becket to lepair to Canterbury, 
where a monk should anoint his eyes and restore bis sight ; 
and he is seen stretched in prayer at the priest's feet in 
front of the altar. In another medallion the priest anoints 
his eyes with the miraculous blood, and his sight is restored. 
In another, Robert is seen offering at the altar a large bowl 
of golden pieces, in gratitude for the saint's interference. 

The next group proves that not only offerings and prayers 

1 BeiU'dict, i. 36. 



CURES AT THE SHRINE OF ST. THOMAS. 353 

were made at the shrine, but also severe penances were per- 
formed. In one compartment a kneeling female figure is 
bowing herself to the ground before the priest at the altar, 
who is receiving a large candle apparently offered by her, 
holding a book in his left hand, whilst two men, armed 
with long rods, stand by. In the next medallion the female 
figure is being violently beaten by the two men with the 
rods, one of whom stands on either side of her. 

In the third, though the woman is falling fainting to 
the ground, one of the figures is still striking her with the 
scourge. The other figure is addressing the priest, who is 
sitting unmoved by the scene, reading from the book ; a 
figure is standing by with a pilgrim's staff, looking at the 
flagellation, much concerned. A legend is attached, Stat 
modo Jocunda lajjsa jacet moribunda. 

In the other two windows may be traced many of the 
multifarious miracles described by Benedict, and by him 
thus summed up : ^ " Qute est enim in Ecclesia conditio, 
quis sexus vel ;etas, quis gradus vel ordo, qui non in hoc 
thesauro nostro aliquid sibi utile inventiaf? Administratur 
huic schismaticis lumen veritatis, pastoribus timidis con- 
fidentia, sanitas pegrotantibus, et pfenitentibus veniat ejus 
meritis coeci vident, claudi ambulabunt, leprosi mundantur, 
surdi audiunt, mortui resurgunt, loquuntur muti, pauperes 
evangelizantur, paralytici convalescunt, detumescunt hodro- 
pici, sensui redonantur amentes, curantur epileptici, feb- 
ricitantes evadunt, et ut breviter concludatur, omnimoda 
curatur infirmitas." 

G. A. 

1 Benedict, i. 2. 



2S 



:.54 BECKET'S SHIUNE IN PAINTED WINDOW. 



NOTE I. 

REPRESENTATION OF BECKET'S SHRINE IN ONE OF 
THE PAINTED WINDOWS IN CANTERBURY CATHE- 
DRAL. (See p. 2G4.) 

The accompan^'ing view of the Shrine of Becket is en- 
graved from a portion of a painted ghass window of the thir- 
teenth century, on the north side of the Trinity Chapel in 
Canterbury Cathedral. It is one of a group of medallions 
representing a vision described by Benedict ^ as having been 
seen by himself. Becket is here shown issuing from his shrine 
in full pontificals to go to the altar as if to celebrate Mass. 
The monk to whom the vision appears is lying in the fore- 
ground on a couch. The shrine, by a slight anachronism, is 
represented as that erected subsequently to the vision ; and 
this representation is the more valuable as being the only 
one known to exist ■,'^ for there can be little doubt that the 
drawing in the Cottonian MS. does not attempt to represent 
the shrine, but only the outside covering or case. The me- 
dallion is the more interesting from being an undoubted 
work of the thirteenth centuiy ; and having been designed 
for a position immediately opposite to and within a few 
yards of the shrine itself, and occupying the place of honor 
in the largest and most important window, without doubt 
represents the main features of the shrine faithfully. 

The view will be found to tally in a singular manner 
with the (lescriptio)i, though not with the sketch in the 
Cottonian MS., given on page 267. 

In the drawing upon the glass cartoon, the shrine, 
shaped like an ark, was placed upon a stone or marble 
platform which rested upon arches supported by six pillars, 
— three on either side. The space between these pillars 

1 Benedict, i. 2. 

2 I am told by the Dean of Ely that it nearly resembles a structure in 
Ely Cathedral, of unknown origin, forming part of the tomb of Bishop 
Hotham. — A. P. S. 



356 BECKETS SHRINE IN PAINTED WINDOW. 

was open, and it was between them that crippled and dis- 
eased pilgrims were allowed to place themselves for closer 
approximntion to the Martyr's body, as mentioned by Bene- 
dict. This could not have been the case had the Cottonian 
drawing been correct, as no spaces are there given, but only a 
few very small openings. But in the glass painting it is 
clearly delineated, as the pillar of the architectural back- 
ground, passing behind the shrine, is again shown in the 
open space below. This platform was finished at the upper 
edge by a highly ornamented cornice, a id upon this cornice 
the wooden cover of the shrine rested. 

The shrine was built of wood, the sides and sloping 
roof of it being ornamented with raised bands, or ribs, form- 
ing quatrefoils in the middle, and smaller half-circles along 
the edges. This mode of ornamentation was not uncom- 
mon at that date, as is shown upon works of the kind yet 
remaining. 

Inside the quatrefoils and semicircles so formed were raised, 
in like manner, ornaments resembling leaves of three and 
five lobes, the then usual ornament. The wooden boards 
and raised bands and ornaments were then covered with 
plates of gold, and on the raised bands and ornamented 
leaves were set the most valuable of the gems. The won- 
drous carbuncle, or Regale of France, was doubtless ret as a 
central ornament of one of the quatrefoils. 

The plain golden surface left between the quatrefoils 
and semicircles then required some ornament to break the 
bright monotonous surftice ; and it was apparently covered 
with a diagonal trellis-work of golden wire, cramped at its 
intersections to the golden plates, as shown in the engraving. 
It was to this wire trellis-work that the loose jewels and 
pearls, rings, brooches, angels, images, and other ornaments 
offered at the shrine, were attached. 

In the interior rested the body of Becket, which was 
exposed to view by opening a highly ornamented door or 
window at the ends. The saint is emerging through one 
of these, in the view. 



BECIvET'S SHKINE IN PAINTED WINDOW. 357 

These windows were occasionally opened, to allow pil- 
grims, probably of the highest orders, who were blind or 
deaf, to insert their heads. 

The ridge, or upper part of the roof, was adorned with 
large groups of golden leaves. 

On comparison of the engraving, as thus explained, with 
the description given in the Cotton ian MS., no discrepancy 
will be found ; but the drawing appears to be only a simple 
outline approximating to the general form, or perhaps only 
of the wooden cover, but even that must have been orna- 
mented in some degree. 

G. A. 

The treatise of Benedict, to which allusion has several 
times been made in these pages, is a document of consider- 
able interest, both as containing a contemporary and detailed 
account of these strange miracles, and also as liighly illus- 
trative of the manners of the time. On some future occasion 
I may return to it at length. I will here confine myself 
to a few particulars, which ought to have been incorporated 
into the body of the work. 

The earlier shrine in the crypt has nowhere been so fully 
desci'ibed. It was first opened to the public gaze on April 
2, 1171.1 

The body of the saint reposed in the marble sarcophagus 
in which it had been deposited on the day after the murder. 
Round the sarcophagus, for the sake of security, was built 
a wall of large hewn stones, compacted with cement, iron, 
and lead. The wall rose to the height of a foot above the 
coffin, and the whole was covered by a large marble slab. 
In each side of the wall were two windows, to enable pil- 
grims to look in and kiss the tomb itself. In one of these 
windows it was that Henry laid his head during his flagella- 
tion. It was a work of difficulty — sometimes an occasion 
for miraculous interference — to thrust the head, still more 
the body, through these apertures. Some adventurous pil- 

1 Benedict, i. 30. 



358 BECKET'S SHRINE IN PAINTED WINDOW. 

gTims crawled entirely through, and laid themselves at full 
length in the space intervening between the top of the sar- 
cophagus and the superincumbent slab ; and on one occasion 
the monks were in considerable apprehTension lest the in- 
truder should be unable to creep out again. ^ 

The tomb — probably the marble covering — was stuck 
all over with tapers, — the offerings of pilgrims, like that of 
Saint Eadegonde at Poitiers ; and in the darkness of the crypt 
and the draughts from the open windows, it was a matter of 
curiosity and importance to see which kept burning for the 
longest time.^ Votive memorials of waxen legs, feet, arms, 
anchors, hung round. ^ A monk always sat beside the tomb 
to receive the gifts, and to distribute the sacred water.* 

The " water of Canterbury," or "the water of St. Thomas," 
as it was called,^ was originally contained in small earthen- 
ware pots, which were carried away in the pouches of the 
pilgrims. But the saint played so many freaks with his 
devotees (I use the language of Benedict himself*^), by 
causing all manner of strange cracks, leaks, and breakages 
in these pots, that a young plumber at Canterbury con- 
ceived the bold design of checking the inconvenience by 
furnishing the pilgrims with leaden or tin bottles instead. 
This was the commencement of the " ampulles " of Canter- 
bury, and the " miracles of confraction " ceased.'^ 

The water was used partly for washing, but chiefly (and 
this was peculiar^ to the Canterbury pilgrims) drunk as a 
medicine. The effect is described as almost always that of 

a violent emetic.® 

A. P. S. 

1 Benedict, i. 40, 41, 53, 54, 55. « Ibid., ii. 13. 

3 Ibid., i. 77; ii. 7, 44. * Ibid., iii. 41, 58. 

5 Ibid., i. 42, 43. 

6 Jucundum quoddam miraculum, i. 43; Ludus Martyris, i. 43; Jucun- 
ditatis Miracula, i. 46. 

7 Benedict, ii. 35. « Ibid., i. 13. 
9 Ibid., i. 33, 34, 84 ; ii. 30 ; iii. (39. 



INDEX. 



Aberbrothock, 228. 

Alfege, Saint, tomb of, 77, 225. 

Augustine, Saint, mission of, 30 ; landing at Ebbe's Fleet, 32, 33 ; inter- 
view with Ethelbert, 36-39 ; arrival at Canterbury, 40 ; Stable-gate, 
41; baptism of Ethelbert, 41; worship at St. Paucras, 42 ; monas- 
tery, library, etc., of, 46 ; foundation of Sees of Rochester and Lon- 
don, 49 ; death, 50 ; effects of his mission, 53 ; character, 59, 60. 

Augustine's, St., Abbey, 46, 83, 221, 224, 232, 257. 

Avranches, Cathedral of, 136. 

Becket, sources of information, 69, 70 ; return from France, 70, con- 
troversy with Archbishop of York, 71 ; parting with Abbot of St. 
Albans, 74 ; insults from Brocs of Saltwood, 75 ; scene in cathedral 
on Christmas Day, 76 ; the fatal Tuesday, 84 ; appearance of Becket, 
86 ; interview with knights, 88-94 ; retreats to cathedral, 94 ; mir- 
acle of lock, 96 ; scene in cathedral, 97 ; entrance of knights, 98 ; 
"The Martyrdom," 101-109; watching over his dead body, 110; 
discovery of hair shirt, 112 ; unwrapping his body, 115-117 ; burial, 
117 ; canonization, 119; effect of martyrdom and spread of his wor- 
ship, 226-232; shrine erected, 236; translation in 1220, 242; well, 
272, 305, 314; abolition of festival, 287; trial, 289-292; destruction 
of shrine, 294, 315. 

Benedict, 69, 232. 

Bertha, 34, 51. 

Black Prince, birth of, 152; qualities, 153; education at Queen's 
College, 153, 215; name given, 160; visits Canterbury, 164; well at 
Harbledown, 164; marriage, 165; chantry in crypt, 165; Spanish 
campaign, 166; return — illness, 167; appears in parliament, 168; 
death-bed, 168; exorcism by Bishop of Bangor, 170; death, 171; 
mourning, 171, 172; funeral, 173-176, 203; tomb, 177; effect of 
life, 181-183 ; ordinance of Chantries, 187 ; will, 194. 

Bohemian Embassy, 243. 

Bret, or Brito, 80, 111, 132, 229. 

Broc family, 73, 75, 77, 83, 84, 109. 



3G0 INDEX. 

Canterbury Cathedral, first eiulowment of, 44; primacy, 53, 54; 
scene in, 76, 77 ; at the time of tlie murder, ys-lol ; tiesecratiou ami 
recousecratiou of, 118; Kiug Henry's peuauce in, 137; historical 
lessons of, 143; tombs in, 151 ; Black I'riiice's visit to, 164; insig- 
nificance before murder of Becket, 220 ; Tilgrims' entrance to, 258 ; 
crypt, 261 ; Whriue, 265, 267, 293, 294. 

Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, 245-250. 

Chequers Inn, 255. 

Chichele, 152, 181, 182. 

Colet, Dean, 280-285. 

Craumer, 288. 

Crescent, 236, 343. 

Cressy, battle of, 155-159. 

Crown, Becket's, 265, 331. 

Ebbe's Fleet, 32-34, 63. 
Edward I., 276, 277. 
Erasmus, 280-285, 300. 

Ethelbert, King, 34 ; interview with Augustine, 34-39 ; baptism of, 
41 ; death of, 52. 

Favvkes' Hall, 166. 
Fitzranulpli, 126. 
Fitzurse, 80, 88. 

Goriiam in Normandy, 135. 

Gregory the Great, cliaracter, 26, 27 ; dialogue with Anglo-Saxon 
slaves, 28-30; effects on English church, .53-56. 

Harbledown, 167, 252, 284, 324; Black Prince's well at, 164. 
Harrow, Becket parts with Abbot of St. Albans at, 74 ; vicar excom- 
municated, 77. 
Henry II., fury, 79; remorse, 134; penance, 1.34-142; death, 240. 
Henry III., 239. 
Henry IV., 176. 
Henry VIII., 291, 292,300. 

Inns for pilgrims, 255. 
Lsabella, Queen, 276. 

John, King of England, 79, 234. 

John, King of France, 160, 162, 276, 323. 

Jubilees, 253, 275, 286. 

Langton, 239, 301. 
Limoges, siege of, 183. 
Lollards, 278. 



INDEX. 3G1 

Loudou, See of, 49, 54, 72 ; pilyrimS' approach from, 245 ; worship of 

Eecket in, 230. 
Louis VII., 270, 32.3. 
Lyons, Chapel of St. Tliomas at, 227. 

Mali.ing, South, turning table at, 120. 

Martin's, St., Church, 40, 61. 

Mary, Queen, 292, 295. 

Miracles, 96, 120, 337, 348, 351, 352, 358. 

Montreuil, visit of Madame de, 293. 

Moreville, Hugh de, 80, 109, 229. 

Pancras, St., Church of, 43. 
Pilgrims, 241, 265, 351. 
Pilgrims' Road, 244, 316. 
Pilgrims' signs, 272-274, 358. 
Poitiers, battle of, 160-164. 

Queen's College, Oxford, 153, 215. 

Reculver, 45, 52. 

Regale of France, 270, 295. 

Richard IL, 338. 

Richborough, 33, 39. 

Rochester, foundation of See of, 49. 

Saltwood Castle, 73, 83. 

Sandwich, 71, 243, 310. 

Sens, 227, 235. 

Southampton, Henry II. arrives at, 139 ; pilgrims' approach from, 244. 

Stable-gate, 41. 

Sudbury, Simon of, 152, 175, 279. 

Sword, of Bret, 107, 229 ; of Moreville, 229 ; of the Black Prince, 177. 

Tabard Inn, 249 

" Thomas," name of, 229. 

Tracy, 80, 126. 

Verona, Church of St. Thomas at, 227. 

William the Englishman and of Sens, 235. 
William Thomas, 314. 
William the Lion, 228. 
Wilsnake, 338. 
Wycliffe, 155, 215. 

York, controversy with Archbishop of, 72, 73. 



LEJe'lO 



